In the cage within the ancient palace's secret chamber, a stale, rancid smell of blood hung in the air.
On the walls, one could vaguely make out figures of carved marks, numbering around seventeen.
The old man who had been imprisoned for seventeen years now showed extremely weak signs of life. He looked as though he might breathe his last at any moment.
The old man, whose breath was as thin as a thread, lifted his drooping eyelids and strained to examine the tall, upright young man slowly walking toward the cage.
"Fellow Daoist... who are you? How did you get in here?" The old man's voice was soft, so weak it was nearly impossible to hear.
Li Qing stood with his hands behind his back. Rather than immediately answering the old man's question, he carefully observed him for a while.
In the end, he reached a conclusion: this old man did not have long left to live.
Even if Li Qing fed him every healing pill on his person, it might not be enough to pull back this life that was already nearing its end.
An intense aura of decay and desolation seeped from the old man, like a withered leaf about to rot away in the soil, its source of life completely exhausted.
"You are Heavenly Measure Mountain's old mountain lord?" Li Qing asked calmly.
The old mountain lord's form was still fairly normal. Though he had clearly also converted to cultivating the Red Moon Secret Power, his body had retained the appearance of an ordinary old man.
The only abnormality was likely his hair. The white hair atop his head was incredibly long, enough to pile into a carpet across the floor.
"That is... correct." Simply answering this question seemed to drain all his strength. After a