"It's my fault? Uncle, back in Zhaoge, you heard that Yin Shou wanted to push a maid into a pit of vipers. You were so enraged that you couldn't sleep, sharpening your sword in the middle of the night, desperate to kill him yourself. Yet now, just a few short years later, King Zhou is flaying people alive and inspecting their bones and entrails, and you tell me I shouldn't kill him?"
Nezha's gaze was like a sword, his voice resonating in his belly. Jiang Ziya was so ashamed of his words that he flushed and was at a loss for how to respond.
But at this moment, Yang Jian beside him spoke up, "Uncle is right, you indeed should not kill Yin Shou."
"Oh? What high opinion does Dao Brother have?" Nezha looked over coldly. For cultivators, half a year is but a moment, yet Yang Jian's aura had grown stronger by three-tenths.
Moreover.
It carried a touch of malevolence.
