"Alas, you make it sound easy, benefactor."
Jingxin let out a sigh.
Ye Lin naturally knew what he was worried about. Still Sea Temple was a Buddhist temple that accepted disciples from all under heaven, never turning away anyone devoted to the Buddha.
At its peak, it had even claimed that every race had followers of Still Sea Temple. Such boasting had naturally displeased many major powers, but Still Sea Temple had an old abbot at the eighth layer of the Golden Immortal realm presiding over it.
In his younger days, the old abbot had feared nothing. No matter how dissatisfied those major powers were, they had not dared show it openly.
But now, the old abbot had fallen. The good days of Still Sea Temple had come to an end as well.
Once the old abbot perished, Still Sea Temple would inevitably face a reckoning from all the major powers. When that happened, not a single person in the temple would be spared.
"I should leave as well. I've searched this place for many years, yet I still haven't found the so-called Radiant Fruit. My friend is gravely injured and on the verge of death. You're anxious, so naturally I'm anxious too."
Ye Lin sighed.
Sometimes, a single sentence could save a great deal of trouble.
Just like now—if these three found the Snowman Clan, then no matter how much the Snowman Clan talked themselves hoarse, these three would not believe them.
A thousand words could not compare to this one sentence from him.
Sure enough, after hearing Ye Lin's words, the last trace of hope in the three men's hearts shattered.
"Alas, so be it. Since the benefactor says so as well, it seems there truly are no traces of the Snowman Clan here."
"This humble monk should