After that, he turned around and bowed again to Jieyin and Zhunti.
When all this was done, he loosened the reins in his hand and took a step forward.
The blue Daoist robe on his body shattered inch by inch, turning into flying ash.
In its place was a plain gray monk's robe.
The topknot on his head came undone on its own, and his three thousand strands of worldly vexation fell away without wind.
In the blink of an eye, that handsome, spirited Daoist of the Mystic Gate had become a young novice monk with delicate features and a solemn, dignified bearing.
A pure and peaceful Buddhist radiance bloomed from his body.
In the blink of an eye, that once high-spirited eldest senior brother of the Jie Sect had become a young novice monk with lowered eyes and a solemn, dignified bearing.
At this sight, Jieyin and Zhunti's hearts abruptly sank.
They knew that Taiqing's scheme had truly begun from this moment on.
And they had already taken the move.
What came next would depend on each side's methods, and on who would laugh last.
Duobao—or rather, he should now be called the young novice monk.
He did not look at anyone again. He merely turned around and, barefoot, walked slowly step by step toward the deeper, more distant, more barren reaches of The West.
His back looked so lonely amid the yellow sand filling the sky, yet it also carried a resolve that pressed forward without turning back.
Jieyin and Zhunti watched this scene, alarm bells ringing wildly in their hearts.
This Duobao... this temperament... was truly rare.
Jieyin and Zhunti withdrew their gazes and looked once more at Saint Taiqing.
"Fellow Daoist, are you satisfied with this?" Jieyin's voice revealed neither joy nor anger.
Saint Taiqing gave