Who are you cursing?!
On Lingyu Mountain, Jinren, who was treating Mr. Siren's wounds, felt as though someone had stabbed him in the back.
That damned Gou...
I'll smash even your Gou-head to bits later...
He could not be bothered to turn around. He had already decided to bow out early, so a few curses in his heart would do. Mr. Siren was more important.
"This injury is quite serious, isn't it?"
Watching Mei Suren put on an airy, untroubled face as he wildly fanned himself—while veins bulged from the pain—Jinren secretly laughed.
Ancient sword cultivators were amusing in that way. Every last one of them was absurdly repressed.
He had thought it was a trait of their era, but Hua Weiyang, whom he had just met, had been exactly the same. So it was an inheritance.
"The Sword Ghost's power is indeed formidable... but it'll be fine soon. We only need to extract this final wisp of sword qi. Teacher, endure it a little longer."
"Mhm."
In truth, for the Immeasurable Silence Seed to devour the power left behind by Hua Changdeng's Sword Ghost, it would only take a few breaths.
Who cared whether it was Body Ghost, Spirit Ghost, or Intent Ghost?
The Immeasurable Silence Seed could even devour Ancestral Source Power and Divine Mind Penetration. Sword qi was also a form of energy—the higher its quality, the better. It accepted everything without exception, yielding even more in return.
Yet Jinren did not dare show himself to be so capable.
Whatever he did now, too much was as bad as too little. He tried to stay at a moderate level and avoid drawing extra attention.
Unfortunately, the main body was too famous. The Dao Master of Transmission was always holding some damned Palm Apricot, invented by who knew