"Why is the young monk crying?"
That tear did not escape Zhou Xuan's eyes, and he immediately asked.
The young monk gently wiped away the tear from the corner of his eye and said, "The people are all ignorant and always believe in the legend of the Blood God. This tear I shed is for them."
Zhou Xuan thought that this tear of the young monk had something to say, but when he continued to inquire, the young monk never spoke the truth, so he had to give up.
Then he started talking about the Blood God again.
"Young monk, I don't understand your persistence. Why does everyone say that the Blood God will descend, but you insist that he doesn't exist?"
"Because he simply doesn't exist."
The young monk spoke decisively, but Zhou Xuan did not find this reason convincing. He pressed further and said, "Young monk, those witches believe that the Blood God will descend and have made sacrifices because of it, and my friend has witnessed the descent of the Blood God with his own eyes,
