Prophecy of the Immortal Monk

Zhan Sheng caught the fragments of conversation, the words mingling with the clinking of utensils and the soft rustling of robes. Fifteen minutes? That's a new record. Across the table, Zhan Sheng's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He observed the disciples as they exchanged whispers, their expressions a mix of curiosity and reverence. The Lotus Flower dew drop had indeed heightened his cultivation, propelling him closer to the realm of the Dao Seekers, a realm only a select few could dream of reaching. But he found all the rumors to be preposterous nonsense.

"Did you see the Devil Venerable's aura during training? It was as if he had harnessed the very essence of the heavens!" whispered a disciple, leaning closer.

"I heard his techniques have become even more devastating. It's said that he can summon flames that rival the sun itself," another disciple added.