It was not only Meng Zhao who thought so. The woman who had just rebuked the old monk likely thought the same. Even if you had fallen into demonhood, even if you were no longer the person you once were, she had at least been your old lover, and she had loved you with unwavering devotion. Did you really have to be so bloody and ruthless?
The others likely held similar thoughts. A demon was a demon, a madman was a madman. Demons at least retained reason; they could be communicated with, even cooperated with. But a madman was a thoroughly unstable factor—no one knew when he might suddenly go mad!
"That's right, Yi Heng. Even if you have now abandoned Buddhism and entered demonhood, you should not have laid hands on Wan Yun. After so many years, even if love is gone, friendship remains. Why go this far?"
The old Daoist was also grief-stricken. His friendship with the old monk ran deepest. After all, among the eight of them, only the two had reached the Great Grandmaster realm. Accordingly, they knew each other better, interacted more, and their bond was naturally the deepest.
In his recollection, his old friend had always been extremely guarded about a past romance, but he had never sought to deny it. Could there be some hidden truth that outsiders like them did not know?
"Hahaha, Xuan Wei, after all these years of friendship, you and I may be called kindred spirits. But how much do you actually know about my past?
"Do you know why I entered the Buddhist fold and cultivated Buddhist Dharma back then?"
At those words, the old Daoist called Xuan Wei gave a self-mocking smile and fell silent. Indeed, when he had come to know and befriend the old monk,