The Red Lotus Monk had barely finished speaking when, before Meng Zhao and the others could react, the fierce, towering monk who had come with him and the two young men with sharp, formidable auras all cried out in unison,
"Absolutely not!"
They truly could not understand why they had come to kill Meng Zhao, only to now invite him into the Pudu Cult and even promise that he would inherit the position of Cult Master in the future. It was simply absurd.
Beyond jealousy and resentment, they were filled with profound bewilderment.
Niu Dali and Yuan Bin were dumbfounded as well. They had even forgotten that these people had come to assassinate Meng Zhao. All they could hear were the Red Lotus Monk's words echoing in their ears. Not only would they not kill him—they wanted to invite him back and worship him like an ancestor?
It was like seeing the sun at midnight—utterly beyond the pale.
The monk dressed in black, who rather resembled an enlightened eminent monk, said nothing. He merely appeared very calm.
Meng Zhao was also startled upon hearing this. He had only thought that this monk wanted him to join the Pudu Cult; he had never expected the man to possess such boldness and resolve as to promise to recommend him as the Pudu Cult's successor.
Powerhouses whose martial attainment had nearly reached the Innate Limit generally disdained lying. They spoke as they thought, acted as they spoke, and carried it through from beginning to end.
Yet his surprise lasted only an instant. Meng Zhao soon shook his head, his face expressionless as he said in a deep voice,
"Master, you have great boldness. Unfortunately, in my eyes, the Pudu Cult is not a sect capable of Universal Salvation. It is merely a group