The Idol and the Old Monk

Only a few dozen miles from Jinling Ferry, a Sumeru stone mountain that seemed to know no bounds had finally received the God of Slaughter.

Wang Xian ordered the troops to make camp and immediately sealed off the mountain.

There was only one road up the mountain, the one right before them. Even if there were other hidden paths, all he had to do was break through the palace on the mountain and wipe out the bandits here.

Then Qingxi would be right before them.

As far as Wang Xian was concerned, bandits and assassins had nothing to do with him. All he cared about was finishing the battle in front of him, then returning to Kunlun Mountains to see his master.

Who could have guessed these fellows would be so unlucky as to run right into his sights?

All one could say was that it was fate.

After Zhao Meng took his men to set up camp, Hua Mantian came over.

After a moment's thought, she said, "Could they have heard that they provoked the imperial army and simply gone into hiding?"

In her view, since they had to sweep through the place to draw Qingxi's waters here, they might as well just charge up the mountain. Why bother with all this nonsense?

What was the point of setting up camp?

They could finish the fight and leave. Every single day mattered greatly to Wang Xian and the army at Jinling Ferry.

Wang Xian shook his head. After all, this was a stone mountain, and he didn't know how many bandits were on it, or whether they had taken any monks hostage.

Perhaps the Fat Monk who had disappeared all those years ago and that old man Shang had come here.

If the two of them had gained some