The rain slowly struck against the straw hats. The Ascetic Monks knelt with pale faces on the wet ground, staring in a daze at the blind youth with a black blindfold. They could not make any reaction for a long time. They were originally the Qing Emperor's last line of defense. Previously, the dozen Ascetic Monks had joined together and almost killed Fan Xian and the Shadow. Thus, their power was evident. Faced with Wu Zhu, would they attack?
The Emperor stood beneath the long corridor in front of the palace. The fine and cold rain in the sky blew past where he stood, soaking through each strand of the whiskers on his chin. His eyes narrowed as the coldness grew in his eyes. Coldly, he said, "Useless things, a mere traitor of the temple has you all scared like this."
