"Master Xin Chi, are you sure you didn't make a mistake this time?"
Maybe the Astrological Bureau could kill the innocent just to do their job, but Li Huowang still couldn't get over that hurdle in his heart.
As soon as Li Huowang said that, the little girl who had been praying instantly shrank, leaving only her clothes behind.
"Er Jiu! Why don't you listen to this poor monk?" Watching Xin Chi's face twist into a wrathful, Buddha-like scowl, Li Huowang sneered coldly.
He strode forward, knife in hand, and stabbed it hard into the yellow prayer cushion beside the heap of clothes. Accompanied by a dog-like yelp, fresh crimson blood spurted endlessly from the cushion.
The thing hadn't left—it had simply shrunk itself, compressing into the cushion.
"Master Xin Chi, if you were always this accurate, I wouldn't have to rack my brains myself."
Besides, he had no intention of being someone else's pawn—especially when that someone was so repulsive.
