Zhang Yan heard a faint trace of persuasion in the other party's words. He smiled lightly and sat back down.
The middle-aged Daoist, shrouded in the dim darkness where no light reached, glanced at Zhang Yan's back several times. His gaze flickered for a moment before he coughed and said, "Fellow Daoist, since you are cultivating the Nine Number True Scripture, it is likely you have yet to learn any superior cultivation methods of the Mingcang Sect. I happen to possess a superior Daoist formula, not inferior to the Five Skills and Three Scripture. Unfortunately, I once strayed from the correct path and can no longer turn back to cultivate it—a deep regret of mine. If you are willing to assist me in achieving a soldier's death and deliver my primordial spirit out of this Small Cold Realm to my clan, I will give this Daoist book to you. What do you think?"
