His pride in his escape technique in the face of Zhou Dao paled in comparison to even a bowl of mutton soup right in front of him.
"Master Qin, how about testing my little disciple? You might as well try to touch him," Zhou Dao whispered softly.
Qin Jinguang's face twitched, ashen as the dead, and he subconsciously shook his head.
"Please, Primordial King, grant me a swift end," Qin Jinguang slowly closed his eyes.
Inheritance is critical to any force, even exceeding bloodline descendants.
To target someone's disciple is to cut off their future, a major sin that warrants a multitude of deaths as penance.
Moreover, the disciple he intended to target belonged to the Primordial King. Should he fail, death was inevitably the only outcome.
"The identity of my little disciple is extremely secret. There shouldn't be many who know of it."
Zhou Dao seemed to have no intention of taking action, savoring the mutton soup and speaking to himself.