At this moment, they were no longer afraid. A dying old man simply could not frighten them.
"You... you people, cough, cough, cough..."
The abbot stared wide-eyed at the group before him, then could not help coughing up another mouthful of blood.
He had never imagined what, exactly, he had been doing all these years.
He had actually raised a pack of demons, a pack of beasts.
What difference was there between the people before him now and beasts?
Had he known this day would come, he would never have taken them in back then.
These were the people he had taken in when he first took over Still Sea Temple and ventured across the Origin Continent. They had all been pitiful souls.
Some had been abandoned by their families, some had been hunted down by their own brothers, and some had been orphans no one wanted.
All these years, he had carefully nurtured them.
When he had been powerful, every one of them had been as meek and obedient as cats.
Who would have thought that now that he was no longer capable, these people would reveal their true faces instead?
One by one, they were like vicious ghosts crawling out of hell.
"Abbot, seeing as you're already like this, why come wade into these muddy waters? Wouldn't it be better to just die quietly?"
"Exactly. You're making things difficult for us for no reason. Since you're making things difficult for us, we can't very well let you have an easy time either."
"Amitabha. Abbot, in your current state, do you think you can still make a move?"
Several leading monks pressed their palms together, wearing expressions of compassion for all living things.
They were now completely certain that the old man before them was truly finished, without even