Wang Xian blurted out, "Gods and Demons Scripture."
The scripture rang through the ninth level of the Soul-Suppressing Tower like a thunderclap. Every syllable seemed imbued with the power of ancient laws, making the entire space inside the tower tremble faintly.
Ku Chan's body, which had sat motionless for a thousand years, suddenly shuddered. His pair of murky eyes blazed with terrifying light.
He stared fixedly at Wang Xian. Behind him, divine radiance unfurled layer after layer like a peacock spreading its tail, illuminating the dim tower as bright as day.
A thousand years of waiting.
A thousand years of searching.
And now, at last, a seemingly ordinary young man had completed it!
"You... you truly..."
Ku Chan's voice was hoarse with excitement, but even in that final moment he forced down his elation.
He scrutinized every minute expression on Wang Xian's face with the insight honed through a thousand years of cultivation—the faint twitch of his brow, the curve of his lips, the tremor of his fingertips.
Wang Xian sighed inwardly. I have to keep up the act. But he put on a panicked expression.
He turned to the two women and hurriedly explained, "You two, this really was a joke! I only made up some scripture to placate him because he kept begging me! How could there be such a thing as the Gods and Demons Scripture? If it existed, would it have fallen into this state?"
First he looked at Ye Honglian, his tone so sincere it was practically dripping with honesty.
He murmured, "Do I look like someone who possesses peerless magic? Those lines of scripture just now were a few incantations I heard the Old Daoist recite in my village when I was little. I just jumbled them together!"
The blood around the wound on