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Demonic energy surged violently, murderous intent crisscrossed, and from the ink-colored lotus seat emerged thirty-six pitch-black lotus seeds, transforming into thirty-six faces filled with rage and resentment. The whispering lingered in Gu Han's ears, causing the Corpse Monk's dark face to constantly shift, the skin quivering uncontrollably, unspeakably ferocious.
The Buddha Son, Yanshan, as clear as crystal, watched everything that unfolded before him without any action, merely gazing at Gu Han.
As the most talented spirit child of the Jushe Mi Sect, Gu Han's defection had wounded the hearts of countless venerable ones. Yet, like the other Buddha Sons seeking their path, the Jushe Mi Sect did not issue an assassination order but instead publicly declared that the spirit child Zhihan had passed away young from illness.
How could a peerless genius who had moved the Esoteric Sect be seized by demonic intent? Yanshan had great confidence in Gu Han.
