Beneath the Formless Tree.
Poison Wine Flask did not find the eight fruits he had worked so hard to knock down. Instead, he heard a taunt from nearby.
He looked up sharply. When he saw the crouching figure with his own eyes, his mind buzzed. "B-Buddha Young Master? You... why are you...?!"
"Why your mother."
Ren Ye, who had stolen eight Formless Fruits beneath the tree, slowly stood up and opened with a choice curse. "Give me Hundred-Flower Immortal's antidote, and I'm still Buddha Young Master. We're still good brothers. Say one more fucking word, and you'll learn what it means to have wrath shoved up your ass."
As Poison Wine Flask watched him approach, shock filled him, but he also suddenly realized something.
He immediately looked toward Weng Sanren near the stone tablet, who still seemed to be in meditation.
Goddammit, all eight of those "children" have been knocked down. What's that old bastard still standing there for?
Acting. Still fucking acting?!
Buddha Young Master just asked me for the antidote. That means he already knows I orchestrated the ambush on Hundred-Flower Immortal.
I'm finished!
Weng Sanren sold me out. He must have told Buddha Young Master to come here and snatch the prize.
But Weng Sanren is clearly with the Great Qian Imperial Court. Why would he join forces with Buddha Young Master?
In a single instant, Poison Wine Flask made many connections, but the sheer quantity and complexity of the information made his brain feel overloaded, almost ready to smoke.
Tap, tap...
The sound of feet striking the ground pulled Poison Wine Flask out of his chaotic thoughts.
He slowly backed away while watching Ren Ye, fully aware that dwelling on how he had been deceived was now utterly pointless.
Buddha Young Master had stolen the Formless