The Old Monk Was No Match Either

At that moment, all of us looked toward the main hall.

After Master and the black shadow were both knocked back,

the three black lotus flames vanished as well.

The black figure that had been thrown three meters away stood inside the main hall and abruptly flicked his cassock.

The black mist dispersed, revealing his true form.

He was a tall, thin old monk with a white beard.

The moment he appeared, his face was filled with cold malice, without the slightest hint of compassion—only ferocity and resentment.

"Who are you people? Why did you slaughter the disciples of my Compassion Temple?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Master answered,

"The ones sending you to the afterlife!"

Master did not waste words with him. He formed a hand seal with one hand, and with a series of crackles, arcs of electricity danced across his body.

He struck out with his palm.

"Thunder Method; Palm Thunder!"

The old monk was startled, but he had nowhere to dodge.

He could only raise his hand to meet the attack. Black qi surged out, seemingly forming a black lotus.

With a thunderous boom,

Master's palm strike sent the old monk staggering backward again and again, gasping for breath.

Looking at the hand he had used to clash with Master's palm, its flesh had split open, blood dripping continuously from his fingers.

Seeing this, the old monk's expression changed again. He scrutinized Master for a few moments.

"Thunder Method! Could you be... Song Decai?"

"Oh! So you know my great name?"

After saying that, Master continued pressing forward, giving his opponent no chance to catch his breath.

Daoist Qingshan did not hesitate either. He said to the few of us,

"Don't let those two souls escape."

With that, he charged into the main hall as