"Th-then I'll have to trouble you, benefactor."
Jingxin said in a trembling voice.
Without hesitation, Wang Tian took out a medicinal pill and placed it directly into the old abbot's mouth.
The pill melted as soon as it entered his mouth. Moments later, the old abbot's eyelids trembled before slowly opening.
"Master."
At the sight of this, Jingxin could no longer hold back. Tears streamed down from the corners of his eyes.
"Child, don't cry. This humble monk has done many wrongs in the past. Consider this my retribution."
The old abbot naturally understood what had happened. He first cast Wang Tian a grateful glance, then, with trembling hands, stroked Jingxin's face. His eyes also gazed kindly at the two junior brothers behind Jingxin.
"You always said I favored Jingxin and neglected the two of you."
"But all three of you are my most treasured disciples, all my children. How could I possibly neglect my own children?"
"Jingxin's talent is better than yours, so I taught him more. If I taught you two too much, I feared you would not be able to learn it all and would only muddle your minds."
"I hope you will not blame me."
The old abbot spoke very softly, with a trace of pleading in his voice, as though begging his disciples for forgiveness.
"It's alright, Master. We don't mind. None of us mind."
"That's right, Master. We only want you to live well. We don't mind. Master, don't leave, alright?"
Jingwu and Jingsha said through tear-streaked faces, while the old abbot's eyes were full of reluctance.
But could life and death truly be decided by him?
The deeper one's cultivation, the more one could sense one's own insignificance.
Before the great tide of heaven and earth, one was as tiny as an ant.