Seeing that Li Su showed no reaction at all, Daoist Kongkong stopped howling.
It was painful, yes, but for someone who had cultivated for several thousand years, he had endured far more despairing things than this. What was this by comparison?
The contract stipulated that there could be no deception or betrayal, and the price for violating it was immense.
But clearly, the phantom had truly been here; it had merely disappeared now. Though he could not produce it, this did not count as deception. Thus, he could more or less skirt around this oath.
Of course, the losses were still severe.
He would have to fork out a huge sum to compensate the other party.
That was undoubtedly wrenching, painful beyond measure. Not only had he failed to obtain the Ghost Emperor Talisman, he instead had to pay out a massive amount.
For a swindler, this was simply unbearable.
For an instant, a vicious glint surfaced in Daoist Kongkong's pupils, and his gaze involuntarily narrowed.
Why not go all the way?
He did not want to rob anyone either, but the Ghost Emperor Talisman was extremely important to him—no, to them. It concerned a certain place where the underworld lay deep in the far west.
There stood a great temple, nameless yet of an exceptionally high grade.
Daoist Kongkong and Brocade-Furred Rat had lingered before its gates for a long time. Sensing the danger within, they had ultimately chosen to give up and return empty-handed.
Though they had given up, it had undoubtedly only been temporary.
Neither of them had forgotten that place. More importantly, there was something inside that they both cared about beyond measure, something they longed for.
Unfortunately, after spending several hundred years in the Western Domain, they had still failed to find an opening. In