A Young Man Seeks to Know How Vast Heaven and Earth Are
Lin Zhiya's wistful expression instantly turned to towering rage upon seeing Master Wutong. He sprang to his feet.
"So it's you, you swindler!"
"Get him! Seize him!" With a wave of his hand, a group of household servants behind him immediately pounced.
The moment Master Wutong saw Lin Zhiya, he sensed that something was wrong and wanted to use his lightness skill to flee.
But as soon as he gathered his breath, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
"What is going on?"
Master Wutong's face was full of horror, but his body went limp of its own accord, and he nearly collapsed straight onto the ground.
It turned out that, at some unknown moment, all the martial arts he had cultivated had been crippled. His Blood Qi scattered, his body weakened, and he had become so feeble that he could not even raise a fist.
Master Wutong immediately recalled the glance that immortal in the clouds had cast over him before leaving.
There had been amusement in that gaze, like the gods and Buddhas upon their altars smiling at the ignorance of mortals.
So everything about him had long since fallen into that immortal's eyes. All his earlier actions had been nothing more than a clown capering on a stage.
The immortal heart was unfathomable, yet Heaven's will had long ago been decided.
A martial artist of no mean skill and countless tricks was pinned down by several household servants and beaten until he howled miserably.
"Hiss."
"Ah!"
"Stop hitting me, stop!"
"I surrender! This poor monk—this poor Daoist—Wutong surrenders!"
In the end, the tall and strikingly presentable master was captured with a bruised and swollen face, pressed to the ground without even the strength to struggle.