Luo Fu had communicated with True Venerable Qu quite a bit, and roughly knew what Cheap Senior Brother was calculating.
If he could even bear to give away the Dao Stele, then this Ancestral Shaman artifact of the Shaman Cultivators—and a replica at that—would not hurt too much to give away either!
Of course, there was no way he could let go of the Heroic Spirits inside.
So what she asked was whether the other party wanted this replica. If he could truly handle the matter of the Heroic Spirits, then... it could be discussed!
"As expected of one from the Righteous Sect," Big-Headed Boy snorted softly. "You still want me to keep helping?"
Luo Fu gave a soft sigh. "I heard that in the past, there was an Ancestral Shaman who bore up against the heavenly tilting with his strength and died..."
"Enough, don't say any more," Ancestor Tong said, a little impatient. "Helping you is no problem, and I never wanted this replica either..."
"I didn't even covet that Dao Stele. It's only that, as fellow members of the Human Race, seeing you suffer calamity, I'm willing to do my part!"
"But with the next Ring of Heavenly Tilting, how much I can help depends on you yourselves. Understand?"
Only when people first helped themselves would heaven help them. To expect him to foolishly make some promise he did not want to be bound by was purely wishful thinking.
The endless dim yellow cycled again and again. After being cut down and extinguished, it surged forth once more, stretching on without end.
Big-Headed Boy chopped at the sky axe after axe, neither hurried nor slow, appearing unusually relaxed and effortless.
In the blink of an eye, more than ten days had passed, yet his rhythm remained extremely steady,