"Master..."
The moment the voice sounded, Master Danyang jolted and spun around. He immediately saw a familiar face.
It was his most prized disciple, Zhengkun. Dressed in a blue Daoist Robe, he was standing there calmly, gazing at Master Danyang with eyes devoid of hatred.
He was so lifelike, he seemed like a real person.
But I vividly remember crushing his skull with my own foot—there's no way he could still be alive!
In the next instant, as if snapping to his senses, Master Danyang's face twisted with rage. "How dare you play tricks on this Daoist Master! You must be tired of living!"
With a bark of contempt, Master Danyang tossed his longsword into the air. He pressed his middle and index fingers together, bit down on them, and used the blood to paint a Blood Talisman along the blade as it fell.
