At these words, the men in black were stunned, their gazes turning cold as they looked at Zhao Rui.
"You think you have us in the bag?"
Yanxing snapped, his cold eyes filled with an anger born from being underestimated.
"Amitabha Buddha. It seems I have misjudged. In that case, we at Shaolin cannot allow Zhao Zhenren to see us as a joke. Namo Amitabha Buddha. Uncle Huai Xiang, I must trouble you."
Zen Master Huikong's Buddha's Voice rang out, causing the distant temple bells to hum in resonance.
"Sigh."
A sigh suddenly echoed from the direction of the Great Hero Hall, followed by an explosive burst of profound True Qi. Its sheer power was so immense it horrified everyone present.
"Amitabha Buddha. I have practiced Suffering Zen Forgetting Machines for thirty years and have never involved myself in worldly affairs. Nephew, why must you force my hand?"
