"You said, ever since that night, you've been tossing and turning, unable to sleep, even your divine thought felt crushed, but now, looking at you, you've trained to the Primordial Pill level in martial arts, how come this habit of turning Buddhist beads for decades is still there."
The silent atmosphere of the great hall.
Ruan Xiuxiu rarely reminisces.
Furthermore...
The old matters weighing on the mind for decades.
Made Cui Chan's hand stop with a 'swish'.
Inadvertently, his finger bones applied a bit of pressure.
Then ————
With a 'crack' sound!
Suddenly, one of the sandalwood Buddhist beads on Cui Chan's wrist cracked, showing lines.
Then they shattered one by one, as if in a chain reaction, making a 'clatter', and a dozen beads rolled onto the floor, crisply hitting the glazed jade plate inside the hall.
Making Cui Chan let out a bitter laugh, bending down, feigning to pick them up:
