117: Chapter 117 Liu Dali!
Qin Xiaogan looked at the pure soul before him, unable to help but find it amusing.
This naive youth actually dared to brazenly lie and claim to be his disciple.
It was truly... interesting.
The soul looked at Qin Xiaogan, his body trembling like a withered leaf in the wind.
When his gaze met Qin Xiaogan's indifferent eyes, an invisible force seemed to strike him instantly, making him feel as if his soul were being torn apart, in excruciating pain.
"My… Lord, I am Liu Dali from Liu Village. My… my mother was cruelly murdered by thugs."
Liu Dali's voice carried endless sorrow and rage, trembling so much it was barely coherent.
"I… I was raised by a monk. He told me to devote myself to kindness and forget my hatred."
At this point, he clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. "But I am not reconciled! How can I be reconciled? Those thugs are still at large; how can my mother's soul rest in peace? I want revenge!"
His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, and he roared at the top of his lungs, "I want to kill them all!!!"
Qin Xiaogan narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression remaining indifferent. "What do I get out of it?"
Liu Dali suddenly raised his head, staring straight at Qin Xiaogan. "My Lord, everything I have! I know you are collecting souls. If you can grant me power, I am willing to sacrifice my soul to you."
Upon hearing this.
Qin Xiaogan's mouth curled up to his ears, emitting a mocking laugh.
The smile was like the screech of a night owl, making one's hair stand on end.
Subsequently, Liu Dali felt his soul expanding violently, as if it were about to burst at any moment.
He clutched his head in agony, letting out a shrill scream.
Qin Xiaogan spoke slowly: "One hundred million souls."
Liu Dali's eyes turned scarlet. He hurriedly clutched his head and rasped, "My… My Lord! I am willing!!!"
His voice was filled with determination and madness, as if he had already disregarded life and death.
Qin Xiaogan nodded slightly upon hearing this, a movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
Immediately after, he grabbed Liu Dali's head with one hand. A thick soul energy emerged from his palm, like dense mist with an eerie glow, and surged rapidly into Liu Dali's body.
Suddenly, Liu Dali felt as if he were immersed in boiling magma; every inch of his skin and every cell in his body was enduring immense pain.
His features twisted from the pain, and he let out agonizing roars from his throat.
"Ahhh—"
However, that soul energy did not stop; instead, it poured into his body even more surgeingly.
Liu Dali's body began to tremble involuntarily, veins bulging on his skin, as if they would burst at any moment.
Qin Xiaogan's face remained expressionless, just coldly watching Liu Dali struggle in agony.
After a while, the infusion of soul energy finally stopped.
Liu Dali collapsed to the ground like a pile of mud, gasping for breath, yet a trace of madness revealed itself in his eyes.
"I do not raise trash…" Qin Xiaogan said coldly, then turned and left, leaving Liu Dali behind, his body still trembling slightly from the previous impact.
Liu Dali watched Qin Xiaogan's gradually receding back, his heart unknowingly filled with fear.
This man… actually wanted him to kill one hundred million people.
One hundred million living lives, one hundred million heavy sins.
However, at the thought of his enemies still living freely and happily in this world.
The hatred in his heart instantly ignited like a fierce fire, overshadowing the last trace of his conscience.
"They all deserve to die!" he muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes bloodshot, his face twisted by extreme rage.
...
On a mountain peak not far from Liu Village.
A dilapidated temple was hidden deep in the mountain forest.
The temple walls were already mottled, the peeling plaster seeming to tell of the vicissitudes of time.
A broken golden bell hung alone in a corner of the temple, its surface covered with rust and scratches; that once crisp bell sound seemed to have become a distant memory.
An old monk sat quietly in the temple courtyard with his eyes closed.
His face was etched with wrinkles, like the weather-beaten beams of the temple. The kasaya on his body was old but still neat.
A gentle breeze blew, stirring his sparse white hair.
The old monk remained motionless, as if he had merged with this dilapidated temple, immersed in his own world.
Suddenly, a butterfly fluttered over and landed on a wildflower beside the old monk.
The old monk slowly opened his eyes, his gaze revealing a tranquility and detachment from the world.
He stood up gently and walked towards the broken golden bell, stretching out a calloused hand to stroke the bell body.
"Sigh… all things in the world have causes and effects."
"The death of hundreds of millions of living beings, the survival of hundreds of millions of living beings."
"Amitabha, may Buddha be merciful…"
At this moment, sunlight shone through the gaps in the leaves, forming patches of light on the ground.
The old monk looked up at the sky, a slight smile appearing at the corner of his mouth, and then closed his eyes again, continuing his cultivation in this tranquility.