Stone Ridge Mountain, No. 4 Golden Core Camp.
The fog was thick, carrying a fishy, salty stench that would not disperse.
"Ah—!"
A shrill scream tore through the tranquility of early morning. A Golden Core female cultivator knelt ramrod-straight in the mud, her nails digging fiercely into the earth, dragging up a streak of black-red blood.
Her body twisted into a strange arc. The crack of bones from her spine was clearly audible in the silent camp. Beneath her skin, countless blue-black lines crawled madly toward her neck like living snakes.
"Save... save..."
What came from her throat was no longer a woman's voice, but a heavy, hoarse male voice, carrying an Aura of ancient desolation.
The surrounding female cultivators stumbled back several steps in fright. Their knuckles clenched white, and the sword hilts in their hands trembled slightly under the overwhelming pressure of that grand status.
"The lord has arrived!"
Someone in the crowd shouted.
Barefoot, Chu Qing stepped across the damp, cold blue stone slabs, walking over step by step.
He was not wearing that heavy suit of armor, only draped in a black cloth robe. But with every step he took, the air beneath his foot collapsed of its own accord, forming a small vortex of air pressure.
Chu Qing stopped before the convulsing female cultivator.
He lowered his head.
(Microexpression): In his twin pupils, Dark Gold flowing light shrank into the point of a needle. The corner of the mouth pressed downward, and a masseter muscle like raw iron bulged at his jaw.
Protecting his own.
This was an illness carved into his bones from back when he had been a Minion in Stone Rock County.
His private property—whoever touched it died.
"Since you're dead through and through, you ought to obediently remain ashes."
Chu Qing