"Ah! I only came to pick up a few things. Who would have thought I'd happen upon something like this? It seems this old man's luck is truly quite ordinary! Hehe!"
The laughter slowly spread as a figure abruptly appeared above the great hall, standing opposite Xiao Heng.
The man wore a yellow robe, his body slightly stooped. His hair and beard had both turned white. Standing in midair, he truly looked somewhat like an otherworldly master. Unfortunately, perhaps because the Soul Clan was simply like this by nature, or perhaps due to his cultivation method, although the old man was smiling, that smile gave off an unnervingly sinister feeling no matter how one looked at it.
Xiao Heng narrowed his eyes at him and said gravely, "A member of the Soul Clan?"
"Couldn't I be from the Soul Hall?" the old man said with a smile. Below, quite a few people were wailing—all of them were from the Soul Hall. Compared to the forces Xiao Heng had brought this time, the Soul Hall's defenses, though decent, appeared somewhat weak. At this moment, countless Soul Hall members were pleading with the old man, yet he seemed neither to hear nor see them, remaining perfectly at ease.
Watching his subordinates die one after another without the slightest reaction, this man's heart was terrifyingly cold.
"The Soul Hall likely doesn't have someone like you," Xiao Heng said solemnly. He did not rush to attack either; this old man was not someone who could be dealt with quickly.
"Hehe! You're quite clever. But whether it is the Soul Hall or the Soul Clan, they were one entity to begin with." The old man chuckled. His eyelids lifted slightly, and a faint glint flashed through his murky eyes.
"You are Xiao Heng, aren't you?