"Creak, creak," the donkey cart's wheels turned incessantly, producing a grating, unpleasant noise.
"Dog-son, drop some scented oil on the wheels."
Li Huowang, lying on the donkey cart, said with effort. At that moment, his neck had just been stitched by Bai Lingmiao with an embroidery needle and covered with golden sore medicine, and now he couldn't sit up.
Before long, the creaking sound had diminished significantly. Li Huowang stared blankly at the sky, thinking about the events of the previous nights.
The trouble at Zhengde Temple had been dealt with, but his own troubles were just beginning.
In his eyes, it was Master Danyang, after becoming immortal, who had killed those Buddha figures.
But in the eyes of others, it was he, with a fierce and terrifying expression, who lunged forward, entering the bodies of the Buddhas and devouring them alive.
A world cannot have two perspectives, so one of the views he and they held must be false.
