Yan Hui exclaimed in astonishment, "You're still unharmed!"
Fan Wubing chuckled lightly, "What do you mean by that?"
"You clearly... you—" Yan Hui's eyebrows shot up high.
Fan Wubing glanced at his hands wrapped in white gauze and squinted his eyes, "You sensed an omen of great misfortune for me, didn't you?"
"No, no, no!" Yan Hui quickly waved his hand, "I can't say anything!" He clamped his mouth shut.
"Why can't you speak?"
"If I speak, I'll incur divine retribution."
Fan Wubing thought, "This person likely has some fortune-telling ability, able to sense the fate of people or things to predict good or bad fortune. Moreover, his cultivation doesn't even seem to reach the Mahayana level, at most, a minor progression, yet he could immediately tell that this small world is a tribulation tomb and still retains the will of a Tribulation Immortal. Even I didn't notice that initially..."
Fan Wubing laughed and said, "Forget it, then don't tell me."
