"Nao, what are you looking at? What's over there?" The young monk saw his disciple standing there dazed and quickly asked.
"There's a handprint there, Master." The Grand Monk answered.
"The young monk said, "It must have been left by that black-clad cultivator just now, the way he hit without any regard. We'll definitely complain about him next time."
"It shouldn't be his, Master." The Grand Monk shook his head.
The young monk asked, "Then whose is it?"
"I don't know, this handprint only has four fingers, the little finger is missing."
The Grand Monk looked at the pitch-black handprint and counted again.
The young monk, "?"
He turned to glance at his disciple, but before he could speak, a black aura seeped from his mouth and nose, and he collapsed straight to the ground.
"Ah! Master, what's wrong with you? Master, please don't die!"
The Grand Monk reached out to lift his master, but as soon as he touched him, his own eyes rolled back, and he fell too.
