Su Mo and his companions walked over, and the members of the Jiaolong Association stepped aside to let them pass.
Approaching the scene, from a distance, they could see a large boat obstructing the river.
There were no drawings on the sail, only a large character: Suffering!
A group of monks with fierce faces and malignant airs, stood solemnly on the ship head, some with their hands put together in prayer, silent and unmoving.
Some directed their gazes over, their eyes full of compassion.
On the big ship head, there sat a little monk, holding a small abacus from who knows where, clicking and clacking, yet with a worried frown on his face.
It was the monk in charge of reception at the gate of Hongyun Temple that day.
As soon as ZhuGe Changtian finished speaking, figures on the boat sprang into action, stepping on air and crossing the void, and in just a few steps, they were already in front of the Jiaolong Association's Water Fort.
