Karma Brought on by Oneself Cannot Be Escaped
Wei Changsheng curled up amid a pile of rotten leaves, the taste of rust rising in his throat.
He could clearly hear the broken ends of his ribs grinding together, like shards of porcelain scraping back and forth within his flesh.
Wei Changsheng's cultivation was low, and he had never learned such profound arts as divination. He was now highly suspicious that this monk was not divining anything at all—he simply wanted to torment him.
Even after his body had been tempered by Gangsha, granting him skin of bronze and bones of iron, being repeatedly hurled away and then smashed viciously into the ground had still inevitably broken several of his bones.
The pain was secondary. What Wei Changsheng truly found unbearable was the humiliation of having his life and death beyond his own control.
Ever since he had begun cultivating, when had he ever experienced such helplessness?
Yet that was the reality. Like an ant being toyed with, he had no idea when he would die at this monk's hands.
After being flung once every few li, Wei Changsheng had lost count of how many times his face had collided head-on with the ground. He only remembered that, just as he was about to pass out, the monk finally stopped and let out a puzzled sound.
"What is this?"
The scruffy monk tossed Wei Changsheng aside, parted the dense forest, and walked up to a stone stele.
Wei Changsheng wiped the mud from his face and stood tremblingly to one side.
He did not dare run. He had tried to seize an opportunity to flee before, but after running only a few zhang, he had been caught and dragged back. Then that huge black foot had come down on him, stomping