Silence settled over the Main Hall of Little Hidden Temple.
After a long wait, Chunji slowly spoke:
"Puxin... ah..."
After saying, "I trust you've been well," Jiang Che had gained Chunji's trust in the same way as before and explained the latest developments.
Chunji took a long time to digest the news. In the end, it all dissolved into that single sigh.
But Jiang Che still had to ask the question that concerned him most:
"Master, there is something I hope you can explain. Puxin called that Demon Sword his master. He didn't seem coerced or bewitched. If anything, he seemed rather devout, even happy. Why was that?"
Chunji pondered for a moment, then replied, "This humble monk's final measure was to send my own true spirit into the sword, so that it and the Evil Spirit would annihilate each other. Had I succeeded, only the blade should have remained-a lifeless object. But from what you have told me, benefactor, my abilities were insufficient. Perhaps I failed to destroy the Evil Spirit."
"If the Evil Spirit survived, then even in its weakened state, it could easily have slipped a few lingering thoughts into Puxin's heart while he was young and his mind was still unformed, gradually eroding him as the days and months passed. He lost his family and his master at a tender age, leaving him alone and helpless. If something entered his mind one day, claimed to be me, and offered him someone to lean on, someone to comfort him, it would be only natural for him to mistakenly believe and follow it..."
That did make sense, yet Jiang Che felt somewhat disappointed.
Could he not have come up with such an ordinary explanation himself? Why spend thirty points of transmigration energy to travel fourteen years into the