The candlelight in the Buddhist temple flickered intermittently, and the hunched old man turned around from the prayer mat.
Even with mental preparation in advance, Gu Jianlin felt a chill when he saw his appearance.
Because Taiqing's body has completely deformed, with intertwined golden tree roots replacing his skeletal structure under his tattered monk robe, devoid of any flesh, fascia, or organ tissues, only a vermilion flame burns at his heart, indicating how severely he has been corrupted.
Especially his head, which is no more than a skull like rotten wood, scorched black by burning vermilion fire.
So ironic.
"The inheritor of order, corroded to this extent."
Gu Jianlin raised the Qilin Wedge, aiming it at him from afar: "You truly are not as good as Grandmaster."
