The Fuyao Palace group hadn’t gotten too far. Their master—Xuan Si’nyang—had her mind on other things, causing the jade carriage to fly at a more modest pace.
The carriage didn’t look that big from the outside, but inside was like a palace decorated with all kinds of precious ornaments and rare treasures. Xuan Si’nyang rested her chin in her right hand as she sat atop a couch, her brows slightly creased as she seemed to think deeply on something. In front of her sat a white-dressed Xiao Mahn, whose head was lowered as she quietly sobbed.
"Spirit Mountain Temple…. Spirit Mountain Temple…. Ever since the destruction of the Buddha, you haven’t shown an interest in the world for over ten thousand years. What are you trying to accomplish with what you did today?"
