"Fellow Daoist, please calm down!"
Watching Ancestor Minghe attack him without a care for anything else, Jieyin felt his forehead darken with exasperation.
Was this his fault?
It was all Daochen's fault, all right?
I, Jieyin, am a victim too!
That was the truth, and that was what needed to be said.
But the question was, would Ancestor Minghe listen to Jieyin?
Ancestor Minghe had only one thought now.
No matter what.
I'll settle the score with this baldy first.
I don't care whether you're a Sage or not.
First, I'll vent this foul anger in my chest.
Even a clay figurine had a temper.
I already hid in the Netherworld Sea of Blood, yet you and Zhunti still won't leave me alone, Jieyin.
You come torment me whenever you've got nothing better to do.
Do you really think I, Ancestor Minghe, am made of clay?
Even if I die here today.
I'll accept it.
This is just too fucking stifling.
He did not want to provoke anyone, yet others kept coming to provoke him for no reason.
First, they had plundered the Asura people, leaving his Asura Teaching with only two or three cats, big and small.
And now, wonderful-they had swept up the whole pot.
They had not left him a single Asura person.
Who could possibly stand that?
"Humm!"
A low hum rang out.
A Long Sword of Low-Grade Xiantian Spiritual Treasure rank, wreathed in blood-colored divine radiance, sliced through the void and slashed straight down at Jieyin's enormous bald head.
Ancestor Minghe truly was miserable.
He should have been living like a nouveau riche of the Primordial World.
Instead, he kept provoking Daochen whenever he had nothing better to do.
As a result, Daochen had taken every one of his companion spiritual treasures.
Now, a mighty