"Xuan Ming. If his fate in this life is still to destroy his country and his family, what will you do?" The Bodhisattva asked with a smile.
"Hmph, it seems that all these eyes that arrange fate are caused by me, so they can also be destroyed by me." There was a calm expression on the young man's face.
"Don't you care about your thousands of years of practice at all?"
The young man smiled, and a blood-red flower bloomed on the tip of his slender finger. The red face dripping with blood trembled slightly in the wind: "It's the same whether you care or not."
As soon as the words fell to the ground, the flowers scattered and withered.
The heart-stopping red color rushed down, covering the sky and the earth in a beautiful color of blood.