"At this moment, the six clusters of Mistaken Dreams have dispersed. Please, Zen Master, extinguish the fire."
The dialogue between Zhou Xuan and Zhao Wuya was like a minstrel performance, seamless and perfectly coordinated, truly a conspiratorial exchange that made the Mo Ya Monk so furious that smoke rose from his seven orifices once more.
"You're playing tricks outside the rules again."
"Still within the rules."
Zhou Xuan said with a smile.
"It seems my Wu Ya Stone has to join the game now." Zhao Wuya threw the "Wu Ya Stone" in his hand into the sky above Mingjiang Prefecture.
The small Wu Ya Stone, covered with green moss, a lush patch of green, hung in the sky, and even on a clear sunny day without mist, it would be extremely difficult for ordinary people on the ground to spot it with the naked eye.
The Wu Ya Stone gently shook the moss from its body
