The moment Wang Xian opened his mouth, his words poured out like water through a broken dam, with nothing held back.
Though blind, his words were sharper than blades: "I may not be a Buddhist disciple, but I've read ten volumes of Buddhist scriptures. I doubt even countless prodigies in this world can match that."
"I'm curious. How can you still wear those monk's robes? Didn't your master teach you that the Buddha said, 'Only when compassion is born in the heart can one save oneself and others'?"
"You're a blood-and-flesh-devouring demon. Where is your compassion? Without compassion, how can you save yourself? If you can't even save yourself, how can you hope to save us?"
"Are you an idiot? Or have you drunk so much human blood that it's gone to your head?"
Wang Xian stopped chanting. There was no trace of idle conversation left in him.
Everything he said had one purpose: to enrage Ku Chan and unsettle him. When the mind grew unsettled, the breath grew scattered, and once the breath scattered, flaws appeared.
The two women listened to Wang Xian's endless tirade and watched the old demon's expression shift between light and shadow.
The scene before them struck them as bizarre beyond words. They had never seen Wang Xian argue so eloquently, nor had they seen him strike so sharply at the heart of the matter.
Could it be—
Before the two women could think it through, profound pity surfaced on Ku Chan's face.
He looked at Wang Xian and said, "You've only seen me devour their flesh and blood. You don't know that a thousand years ago, a woman made me wish I were dead! You're a fool too. You have no idea why I'm so obsessed with this!"
He then turned to Ye Honglian