Song Wen's consciousness sank into his sea of consciousness, arriving before Xu Zhi's soul.
At the sight of Song Wen suddenly appearing, Xu Zhi's soul's eyes were filled with awe.
"What exactly is your identity? And what is this black hole within the sea of consciousness?"
Song Wen shook his head slightly and began forming hand seals.
Gradually, a mass of golden liquid appeared before Song Wen, radiating waves of searing heat.
"Th-this is the Golden Broth Curse!" Xu Zhi's expression turned terrified.
"You are quite knowledgeable, Fellow Daoist! But I imagine you have yet to taste the Golden Broth Curse. Today, you shall experience it properly." Song Wen said with a beaming smile.
Yet to Xu Zhi, that smile was like the roar of an evil ghost—hideous and terrifying.
"Fellow Daoist, we can talk this out! Ah..." Xu Zhi let out a shrill cry.
The golden liquid poured over his right arm, dyeing the entire arm gold.
A soul was unlike a physical body; when wounded, its flesh did not split and its skin did not tear. Instead, it began to twist and melt away.
By the time the golden liquid's power was exhausted and gradually faded, his right arm hung from his shoulder like a noodle, twisted and warped.
"Could it be... you wish to avenge those nuns of the Sanskrit Sound Nunnery...? You should be satisfied by now, shouldn't you? Please, give me a quick death." Xu Zhi's soul collapsed to the ground, convulsing without cease as he pleaded bitterly.
Song Wen said, "If I were avenging those nuns, I would not let your soul scatter so easily! But I have no connection to them. If you honestly answer a few of my questions, I will grant you a quick death."
"You... ask." Xu Zhi said.
Song