On the black Great Mountain, the fog grew denser, so thick that one could barely see their hand in front of their face, yet the place was peaceful.
"Truly shameless! How can anyone just scribble and deface this place? Do those two old geezers really think they're so mighty?!" cursed the big black dog.
The Investiture of the Gods flowed with golden light, never tainted by dust, dispersing the thick fog with an aura of the supreme Dao.
"Who the hell is this old baldhead anyway? He looks kind-hearted enough, but I bet he's no good. And that wrinkled old geezer riding a bull, reeking of overwhelming demonic Qi—clearly not a good sort," the big black dog swore.
Ye Fan was at a loss for words. The big black dog was outrageous, insulting Siddhartha Gautama as "baldhead" and referring to the other, who arrived with Purple Qi from the East, as reeking of overwhelming demonic Qi.
"Can't you say something nicer..." Ye Fan said.
