Looking at the gaze of these two people, Zhou Yan's mood was extremely heavy.
However, before he could speak, he heard one of them speak in a hoarse voice: "I knew you wouldn't let me go, but as I said, I will never give up the power of Merit!
If you attempt any tactics, I will naturally disperse all the power of Merit and return it to this side of Heaven and Earth, benefiting countless ordinary people of China. If you have the ability, you can massacre all the ordinary cultivators of China."
This old voice spoke coldly.
The cultivator next to him, who was emitting a rotting stench and whose body was half-decayed, stared fixedly at Zhou Yan, as if trying to confirm something.
After a brief moment, he suddenly shouted, "Master, you've finally returned!"
"Hmm?"
The elderly figure, dry and withered, beside the foul-smelling man, stared at Zhou Yan in shock, with a look of hesitation in his eyes, "You—are you really Zhou Yan?"
