Inside Li Fuchan's Storage Bag, A Plea for Thirty-Six Years of Romantic Tales silently turned a page. Sealing Talismans lay scattered beside it; clearly, Li Fuchan's methods had never restrained it. Three Nothing was secretly watching the scene unfold.
From what he knew of Li Fuchan, even if Li Fuchan still had some scheme in mind, even if he was about to die, he would surely spout some nonsense, such as:
"Abbot Quan, my strength is meager. Although I cultivate 'Li Thunder' and became one of the four aspects of slaying bandits through the entanglements of karma, I could never be your match. How could I possibly kill you? I am willing to go far overseas. All I ask is to live."
Or perhaps some useless threat like, "I am of Welcome Ying Isle's Direct Lineage. If you dare kill me, my patriarch will never let you off."
At one point, Three Nothing had even wondered whether this fellow had almost deceived himself into believing he really belonged to Welcome Ying Isle's Direct Lineage. Otherwise, it was hard to explain how he dared be so bold.
Li Fuchan had never cared about saving face. In his usual efforts to slay evil spirits and vanquish demons, he only bullied those with lower cultivation or those he could suppress from start to finish. At the slightest difficulty, he would run.
His tongue was slick with oil, too. Nothing he said would be surprising.
Regardless, though, if Three Nothing did not intervene, Li Fuchan would certainly die.
Boom.
Then, at that very moment, a bolt of Golden Thunder suddenly exploded.
Li Fuchan's rebuke rang through the thunder and rain, lofty and imperious, vast with heaven's might:
"You Blood-Consuming Cultivation, man-eating fiend, you beast! You pushed yourself into Inner Vision on the Life Force