Wang Xuan silently sensed the vigorous, boundless vitality within Duan De's body, surging like hidden currents beneath a vast ocean.
This fatty had at least several thousand years of lifespan left.
Given the strangeness of the Heavenly Tribulation Transcending Technique, and the foundation he had accumulated from who knew how many Reincarnation Seals—equivalent to having lived several lifetimes as a Great Emperor—such a lifespan was perfectly reasonable.
"You are mistaken, Daoist," Wang Xuan said slowly, his voice seeming to rise from the depths of the Nine Nether. "What difference is there between you and me? We are both no more than motes of dust in the River of Time."
Duan De smiled awkwardly, rubbing his two fat hands together as his gaze darted around. He simply did not dare meet Wang Xuan's deep, murky yellow eyes.
"You jest, Heavenly Emperor. This humble Daoist merely knows a few little beauty-preserving tricks. In truth, my life is already nearing its end." He gave a dry cough and patted his round belly. "That is why I wanted to find a fine place with good feng shui, bury this worn-out body properly, and rest in peace!"
His words were righteous and solemn, yet his thick legs betrayed him by inching half a step backward.
Though the wretched old man before him looked as though he might breathe his last at any moment, Duan De knew perfectly well that if this gaunt, dying man truly made a move, even all the fat on his body would not be enough to withstand a single palm strike.
Wang Xuan did not respond. He merely watched him quietly.
Under that gaze, Duan De felt a chill run down his back. A cold current shot up his spine, and every hair on his body stood on end. It was