The longer Venerable Xia spent recovering, the more alarmed he became. He discovered, to his horror, that the damage to his Primal Soul had struck at its very foundation; there was no way to restore it quickly through outside means.
This was no small shock.
Nurturing a Primal Soul was exceedingly difficult. With injuries this severe, it would likely take years to replenish what he had lost.
At the thought, hatred for Wang Qianqiu surged through him. He gritted his teeth and muttered, "If this wretch isn't destroyed, I—"
"Brother Xia, watch your words."
A voice drifted in from the endless void.
Venerable Xia raised his brows and stared toward the cave entrance. A hazy light appeared, like moonlight falling from above, and took the shape of a Daoist. His face was as fine as jade, his lips red and his teeth white, and the Daoist robe he wore was embroidered with the emblem of the Donghua Immortal Sect.
"So it's Brother Zhu. What, have you come to avenge your disciple's disciple?"
Venerable Xia spoke coldly, his tone still forceful, though unease stirred in his heart.
At the height of his strength, he would have feared nothing. But now, with his Primal Soul badly damaged, if Zhu had truly come in person, he would be hard-pressed to deal with him.
"Brother Xia, you jest. I came to apologize on behalf of a junior. Tell me, what will it take to soothe your anger?"
Daoist Zhu saluted with one hand.
Venerable Xia said, "Do you know what your grand-disciple did? And you dare ask me to let it go? Go back. I'll settle this score with him myself."
Daoist Zhu replied, "Now that I'm here, how could I simply leave? I have two things here. Choose one, and only then can