Those words fell.
Silence settled over the South Market Street Entrance for a moment.
The Golden Alms Bowl was pinned to the paving stones by the Thunder Edict, its rim still scorching hot. Armored Guards held the Yellow-Robed Daoist by the shoulders, while the Thunder Patterns around his wrists tightened loop by loop, hurting him so badly his knuckles turned white.
Yet he still held his head high.
He was waiting for that voice from Mount Sumeru.
And that voice did not disappoint him.
"Wen Zhong."
Golden Light pressed down from the horizon, washing the eaves of South Market in a pale glow.
"A disciple of the Western Sect entered the mortal world to gather suffering. Even if he overstepped, he should be taken back and disciplined by the Western Sect. For Chaoge to detain an immortal with soldiers and lock down an artifact with Thunder is rather excessive."
Hearing this, the old firewood seller raised his scorched-black hand, looked at it, then looked at the Golden Alms Bowl.
"Excessive?"
He gave a laugh.
"Just now, it crushed our voices into evidence of resentment, and you called that relieving suffering."
"Now that he's been detained, you call it excessive."
The old man raised his head and stared at the Golden Light on the horizon.
"So the suffering is ours, the words are yours, and the fault is Chaoge's too?"
The people of South Market all looked up.
Those words were even more direct than Wen Zhong's earlier accusation of "double standards."
They could not articulate lofty principles, but this had happened right before their eyes. Their words had been altered, the bowl had been pinned down, and the man had been detained. Only then had the Western Sect begun talking about compassion and excessive punishment.
The rice seller said, her