Zhou Chenghang fell miserably; his black coat was covered in snow, and his hair, styled in a 3-7 part, was in disarray, his head feeling dizzy.
He reached out to touch the back of his head, unexpectedly finding a big bump, touching it caused a sharp intake of breath, and it hurt so much he gritted his teeth.
He looked at his palm again and saw some blood...
The onlookers couldn't understand how Zhou Chenghang had fallen, nor could they comprehend what Lin Tian and Wang Sijing were doing. One was making faces, while the other's eyes were brimming with tears; the eyes filled with bloodshot veins, what great hatred could there be?
The elderly monk standing aside suddenly raised one hand in a gesture of Buddhist courtesy and said softly, "Amitabha Buddha~"
The voice was not loud, yet it seemed to resonate in everyone's ears without diminishing in power.
In an instant, the noisy room quieted down, even the rowdy children became obedient.
