He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his superior demeanor. Amidst the shouts of countless "Arhats" and "Buddhas" from below the stage, he slowly raised his right hand, just as he had done yesterday, with "compassion" and "fearlessness," and reached into the center of the violently churning, oil-splattering pot!
A hand reached in.
Time seemed to stand still.
One second... two seconds...
"Ah—!!!" A shrill scream, so piercing it was inhuman, suddenly erupted from the mouth of "Zen Master Huiming"!
He jerked his right hand away as if he'd been electrocuted!
That withered hand was now completely red!
Huge blisters swelled up on the skin at a visible speed, then burst! The skin and flesh rolled back! Oil mixed with blood dripped down! The air instantly filled with the smell of burning flesh!
"My hand! My hand, ahhhhhh!"
The Zen master clutched his charred, smoking arm and rolled wildly on the ground, letting out screams like a pig being slaughtered!
Tears streaming down his face, he was no longer the image of a wise man he once was!
There was complete silence, both on and off the stage!
Everyone was stunned! Their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets!
The shill, who had prepared his lines and was about to deliver them, opened his mouth wide and froze.
The monk responsible for lighting the fire and adding firewood dropped the firewood in his hand and was stunned.
The disaster victims, who were frantically shouting "Arhat," suddenly stopped, like ducks being choked. Their frenzied expressions froze instantly, turning into extreme fear and bewilderment!
What happened?
What about the golden statues of Arhats?
Isn't it supposed to be impervious to water and fire?
This...this hand technique is almost mastered?!
Dead silence!
Only the heart-wrenching screams of "Zen Master Huiming" echoed in the square!
Jiang Chan stood at the edge of the crowd, a cold, smug smile curving her lips.
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