"Third Brother, the poison inside your body..."
Lei Yu was deeply worried.
She knew Ji Qing's condition all too well. He was relying entirely on his inner force to suppress the virulent poison, but that was no more than drinking poison to quench thirst. The poison had long seeped into his marrow and organs; medicine and remedies could scarcely cure it.
If he fought anyone, the poison would lose all suppression.
It was even possible that the poison might erupt the very next moment and kill him.
"Don't worry. Dealing with these monks won't take long."
Ji Qing's tone was utterly calm.
Faced with Ji Qing's seemingly "contemptuous" words, the monks of Suspended Temple showed no anger at all.
Instead, every one of them looked grave, as though confronting a formidable enemy.
"Amitabha. Mr. Ji, you are afflicted with virulent poison. Should you fight and the poison flare up, then even if you obtain the Extreme Yang Scripture, I fear you will have no chance to cultivate it."
Master Kong Zhi spoke slowly.
"Whether I will have a chance to cultivate the Extreme Yang Scripture is my business. As for whether Ji will die from a poison outbreak, there is no need for Master to concern himself."
"What Master ought to worry about is this: if Ji draws his blade, will the seven staff-wielding monks still survive beneath it?"
Ji Qing spoke boldly.
Facing seven alone, he was not worried in the slightest.
Instead, it was the seven staff-wielding monks opposite him who ought to be worried.
Yet the seven monks did not object. Each of them remained exceptionally solemn.
Master Kong Zhi looked at Ji Qing, his expression exceedingly complicated.
Ji Qing released Lei Yu's hand and slowly walked toward Master Kong Zhi.
One step, two steps, three steps...