The setting sun hung over the desolate mountains, while the wind on White Bone Ridge wailed like crying ghosts.
Tang Sanzang stared wordlessly at the old man before him for a long time.
His clothes were tattered, his body bent like rotten wood. He held a cane made from dry bones, and with every step he took, a layer of gray-white bone frost seemed to spread across the ground.
After asking a few questions,
Tang Sanzang learned that the old man had come out to search for his wife and daughter.
They had been gone for a long time and seemed to have encountered some danger. His worry was written plainly across his face.
The same familiar routine.
It echoed the old woman from before.
[Amitabha Buddha really has no heart. The White Bone Spirit has gone from one transformation to three, yet they did not alter the backstory even a little.] [Other than the young girl becoming Bai Jingjing, you are still one family.] [Too lazy. Not even as diligent as I am.]
The Heavenly Venerates of Three Pure Ones Hall wholeheartedly agreed.
When their disciple Zhou Qingqing wrecked the plot, she truly wrecked the plot.
Amitabha Buddha, meanwhile, was focused on simple replacement.
As long as those Daoists who knew the plot did not find it awkward, Amitabha Buddha certainly would not find it awkward either.
The question now was how Tang Sanzang would regard this final old man.
Under normal circumstances, this old man was naturally Tang Sanzang's destined opponent.
But for Tang Sanzang, any circumstance could be normal.
Though the old man truly looked like his opponent now, he might just as easily be an ordinary person.
Without a divine ability to distinguish truth from falsehood, if he acted and sent this "ordinary old