"Might I invite you gentlemen to have a chat?"
At those words, Yang Qing and Jiang Zhizhou stiffened. Bu Er was keeping watch outside. If anything unusual happened, he should have warned them first, so why had he not made a sound?
Could something have happened to him?
At the thought of that possibility, Yang Qing's face darkened.
With Bu Er's current skill, no ordinary person could get the better of him.
Then the man speaking outside...
Yang Qing's eyes abruptly narrowed, and a faint aura of killing intent spread around him.
Jiang Zhizhou naturally understood why Yang Qing was angry. He raised a hand and pressed Yang Qing's shoulder gently, then turned, lifted the cloth curtain before them, and stooped to step outside.
His lips tightly pressed together, Yang Qing followed him out of the carriage without a word.
Bu Er was still sitting unharmed on the carriage's crossbeam, his whip raised in midair, but he could not move so much as an inch.
His eyes were wide and round, glaring as though they would spit fire at the man standing before him.
No—a monk.
Though if he was a monk, he was a very strange one.
He wore monastic robes, yet his head was unshaven. There were several round scars on his forehead, however, and on closer inspection, they looked like ordination marks.
That was it—ordination marks!
Once he realized this, Bu Er's gaze grew complicated as he looked at the monk.
He was not alone. Yang Qing and Jiang Zhizhou, who had followed him outside, naturally noticed the man's peculiarities as well.
A man who had renounced the world, yet looked nothing like one.
Now that was very interesting indeed.
Seeing that Yang Qing and the others merely stared at him without speaking, the strange monk broke