The man leaned quietly against the stone wall. Small flames of fire slowly bloomed in the stone cave under the cliff, diligently dispelling the coldness of the night.
The young man was lying on the man's legs with his eyes closed. His brows were slightly frowned, and he was tightly holding the sword named Queshuang in his hand. Even the hem of his clothes was stained with blood.
There is no time in the cultivation of Taoism, and the hatred between monks is even harder to forget. It has been three whole years since the two of them escaped from the Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple and were hunted down by others.
More than eighty years is neither long nor short. The man gently stroked the young man's brow. The Bixiao Sect had changed its leader ten years ago, and the one in power now happened to be the "good" junior brother Yuxuan who framed him and was punished.
The first thing the other party did after taking power was to trap his master who had been trying to help him. Then, three years ago, he responded to the call of the Wanfo Temple by "killing his own relatives for the sake of justice" and was the first to offer a reward for Guanglan in the name of Taoism.
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