It seems that this is not a deity, just like Little Flower said—It's a demon.
Logan did not expose everything, but he wanted to see what kind of waves this Peach Blossom Demon could stir up.
Fulfilling the instructions of the Saint, Logan knelt before the statue of the spirit.
He slowly raised his head, his gaze as piercing as a torch, firmly locking onto the majestic and solemn statue as if to etch every inch of its detail into his heart. The tumult in his eyes, like waves violently whipped up by a tempest, surged and undulated unpredictably, revealing the complex emotions deep within him.
In his hand, he tightly clutched the three sticks of incense, with wisps of smoke curling up from the tip, winding around his fingertips like wispy veils. It was as if the smoke whispered secrets to the air, secrets that defied simple expression, or perhaps, conveyed to the deity his innermost prayers.
