"Fellow Daoist Jin! Those words are far too discourteous! We have only just met. How dare you presume to judge the resolve of generations of Myriad Phenomena Sword Sect cultivators to reclaim our ancestral holdings!"
As Zhu Chengfei spoke, his furious, star-bright eyes seemed ready to spit fire.
His sharp rebuke rang out.
In that instant.
Jin Wangsun's face twitched violently, and his entire shriveled demonic body went rigid for a moment.
Only then did he force out an ugly, strained smile.
"As you know, Fellow Daoist Zhu, I am a monkey demon. By your way of thinking, isn't it only natural for a beast to have no manners?
Even if I was discourteous, so what?
Whether an entire sect or a single person, resolve has never been measured by who shouts the loudest, but by what they actually do.
Look back over two thousand long years of history, and your Myriad Phenomena Sword Sect has remained planted in Central Province without budging a foot.
If that resolve truly remains.
Fellow Daoist Zhu, you should know that this demon-slaying, evil-banishing Zhaijiao Ritual ought to be your best opportunity!"
Zhu Chengfei's expression remained cold and angry, but he no longer vented his fury as freely as before. Perhaps Jin Wangsun had touched his sect's sore spot; when he spoke again, his voice was lower, without its earlier severity.
"Hmph! Anyone can make glib remarks from the sidelines, but only we know the price that must be paid for every step along that thousand-mile road to the Southern Border.
Our ancestral holdings across those twelve hundred mountains...
You dress it up as our best opportunity, but all you want is for us to serve as your vanguard.
Even if we reclaim our ancestral holdings, how much of our fellow disciples' blood will