Bianxuan sat quietly to one side, listening in silence. His ruined eye had been removed, and a black eyepatch lay slanted across it. Though it covered the scar, most of Zhang's face that remained exposed was still extraordinarily handsome, lending him a beauty mixed with something altogether different.
Yet when one suddenly met his intact eye, it was easy to shudder and feel fear rise in the heart.
That was because his gaze was far too calm—still as a lake without the slightest sign of life. But to truly believe that lake was dead and stagnant would be another mistake. Whenever he spoke, something impossible to see through completely flickered within that eye.
"Uncle-Master, what you said is correct, but will Prince Dai agree?" Bianxuan asked, somewhat doubtful.
The old monk glanced at him. "Our Brahma Sect still has strength. It was only that the Emperor's thunderous blow last time came too swiftly for us to react. Now, I believe Prince Dai will follow the current and push the boat along, agreeing to this matter."
"Then that is excellent." Bianxuan lowered his eyes meekly, pressed his palms together, and said nothing more.
The old monk could not help but feel a chill. Why had he led the monks in chanting sutras just now? Because though their imprisonment had been brief, it had brought consequences that could never be undone—their fellow disciples had been executed, and everyone had endured torture.
Such baleful resentment would not be easily worn away. Let alone others, could even he himself truly remain calm and at peace?
And Bianxuan, the monk who had been targeted most severely, had lost an eye and had both his collarbones pierced through. Yet he could lower his head and remain calm. Such depth of mind was no small matter.
"Do