On the fifth floor of the Bao Yan Pagoda, the lamplight cast moving shadows. Monk Yi Xin's expression was calm and unruffled, and the Buddhist chant he recited seemed to still echo in the pagoda. Before him, Monk Zhengyan sat with his head bowed and aura faint, still completely devoid of consciousness.
However, on the floorboards before Zhengyan, a ripple of golden light flickered with faint radiance, not yet fully dissipated, and the air retained a slight turbulence. Before this sign vanished completely, a turbid voice finally emerged:
"Thieving monk, what are you trying to do!"
Zhili's voice was close to madness. It had never expected that Monk Yi Xin would actually push all his chips to the center and do such a thing: could this fellow have forgotten that secret technique in the king's hands that was enough to grant him longevity in the mortal world?
The monk did not entangle with it overmuch, merely saying indifferently, "Lord Zhili shows no consideration and traps this poor monk in a desperate situation, so this poor monk has no choice but to borrow Your Excellency's demonic body to seek life out of death... Om!"
With his roar of the true mantra, all strange phenomena in the pagoda vanished completely, and even Zhili's frantic shrieks vanished into the depths of the void. Monk Yi Xin gave a soft sigh, "The art of longevity is good, but one must have the life to enjoy it."
"Knowing this would happen, why act as you did in the beginning!"
A cold and crisp voice entered from outside. At that moment, the wind chimes outside the pagoda rang, and before the tinkling sound had even reached its halfway point, a tearing whistle of wind overwhelmed everything. With a booming crash, half the wall of the fifth