Shi Wujian, a figure of the ancient ancestors of Mount Shaoshi, held a reputation in the martial arts world akin to that of Mount Tai and the Big Dipper.
The little monk, seeing the master come out, hurriedly climbed to his feet, his breath still chaotic, walking over to Shi Wujian's side, bowing his head, "Master, your disciple is useless."
"Victory or defeat is natural, do not dwell on it in your heart, Chier, you have fallen into demonhood again."
Shi Wujian's voice carried an age-old weariness, as if it could strike at one's heart, turning decay into magic.
The little monk's body shuddered, he nodded, and when he lifted his head again, his eyes had cleared up a lot, devoid of the cruel intent to kill, filled with only purity.
"Such an impressive old monk, his Buddhist cultivation has reached an apex, this is truly a transcendent monk."
