Chapter One Hundred Thirty-two
"A sudden gust of wind?" The black-robed Taoist revealed a trace of a cold sneer.
Although his junior fellow disciple was inept and had not yet entered the path to become a true Spirit Practitioner,
he still had undergone cultivation. His physical foundation was much stronger than that of an ordinary person. How could he have possibly died from a sudden gust of wind?
His gaze turned cold as he looked around the Taoist temple.
Narrowing his eyes, he stopped at one spot.
"These are traces of a Fireball Talisman. My junior fellow disciple fought someone with Daoist magic."
Ordinary police officers could not discern such traces.
But to them, the signs of a talisman were too obvious, and even if they were erased on the surface, one could still sense them.
Now he was even more certain that his junior fellow disciple had not died from a 'sudden gust of wind.'
