Such words were indeed strange.
Although they sounded mysterious and baseless, making them hard to believe, yet...
When Yu Tingwan looked again at Mr. Zhu, who was smiling like a spring breeze at the entrance of the Goddess Temple, she couldn't help but feel a chill down her spine.
Wei Zhao's hand fell on her shoulder, carrying a sense of reassurance, his eyes coldly landing on the Daoist.
The Daoist was not afraid that Wei Zhao would twist his neck.
The hands of this noble person before him had killed countless people, yet his body was filled with boundless merit.
"This humble Daoist is not a charlatan and never speaks lies."
"The yang energy has left his body, yet he lives well; there must be something strange about it."
The Daoist said, "Remarkable, interesting."
He wasn't making things up.
Mr. Zhu's face showed no sign of romance.
He could see clearly that...
The Daoist distastefully remarked, "A face destined for financial loss."
