Body Cultivator

His pitch-black pupils were like thick ink soaked in water, driving the scarlet from the whites of his eyes and turning them profound black.

Black enough to gleam.

Night had fallen?

No, it was not nightfall, but a change in the heavens.

Rippling blackness stained the sky, cut off the earth, and finally wrapped this tiny world completely within itself.

The deep darkness had no visible end. Only wavering candle flames drifted in the distance, crimson-red flames illuminating ancient, decayed-looking shrines one after another.

The somewhat short Nascent Soul cultivator retreated half a step and lowered his head to look at the puddle beneath his foot. At some unknown point, it had been covered by black mystic water that had even submerged his ankles. The puddle reflected a figure that looked much like him. Perhaps it was his reflection—if not for the strange smile on its face.

His name was Ao Cangmeng. He was a cultivator of the East Sea's uncle generation, a Great True Lord. Even Ao Zhan, who guarded East Sea City, had to call him Second Uncle. Having lived more than half his life, what strange things had he not experienced, what raging storms had he not seen? Yet today alone, he felt a faint dread rising from the depths of his heart.

Of course, he knew the individual cultivation and strength of the three Wan brothers, and he understood the might of their battle formation technique. With the three joining forces, even a late Nascent Soul Great True Lord would find them exceedingly troublesome. Let alone killing them so easily. He had indeed reacted, but by then it was already useless.

Yet he remained calm.

There were not truly great dividing lines among Nascent Soul cultivators, only two kinds: ordinary Nascent Soul cultivators and Great True