"I-I don't know either!"
Yan Xiangshuang's expression was anxious, and she said self-reproachfully, "I caused this trouble for you, I'm sorry..."
"Forget it, you should leave first."
Chen Duhe picked up the Hook Scythe Spear and struggled to stand upright, his gaze fixed on the front.
Amidst the rolling dust lifted by the gale, a golden light approached from afar, dispersing all the nearby dust.
Within the golden light, a blind old monk stepped down the slope, treading on a golden lotus. His tattered cassock remained unmoved by the gale, sandalwood Buddha beads twisted around his left wrist, exuding auspicious Buddha light, while his right hand caught a vibrant Bodhi leaf.
"Amitabha Buddha."
He put his hands together and murmured over the corpses on the ground, "Sinful, sinful."
"Master Pujue!"
Severely injured Wang Shuyan, upon seeing the old monk, seemed to catch a lifeline: "Master, save me!"
