CREAK... CREAK... The donkey cart's wheels kept turning, its axle constantly letting out a screeching, grating noise.
"Gouwa, drip some sesame oil onto the axle."
Li Huowang, lying atop the donkey cart, spoke with difficulty. His neck had just been stitched up with embroidery needles by Bai Lingmiao and covered with a layer of golden sore medicine. He couldn't sit up at all.
Soon, the screeching subsided. Li Huowang stared vacantly at the sky, his mind drifting back to the events of a few nights ago.
The trouble at Zhengde Temple was resolved, but his own troubles had only just begun.
From my point of view, it was Master Danyang, after attaining immortality, who killed those Buddhas. But in everyone else's eyes, it was my own twisted, terrifying self that pounced on them, burrowed into their bodies, and devoured them alive. One world can't have two perspectives, so between what I saw and what they saw, one must be false.
