"Tsk, so many people? Shouldn't there only be one?"
The speaker wore a strange expression. He looked to be around forty or fifty, though with his little mustache he was, at most, a middle-aged man. His eyes were sharp enough to see through people's hearts, yet his cheeks were gaunt, and overall he looked spirited enough. Still, there was a trace of cynicism about him. His simple white hemp robe had been worn with an unrestrained, dashing flair.
Was this an artifact spirit, or someone else?
I immediately glanced at the long sword in his hand. It was a genuine ten-thousand-year-old ancient sword, its entire body gleaming like glazed jade, radiant with flowing light and extraordinarily sharp. Judging by its material, although it was not on the level of Violet Crystal, it was probably not far below it. Strange golden runes even surfaced across its length. Anyone could tell at a glance that this sword had an artifact spirit.
An artifact spirit controlling an artifact spirit?
I drew a deep breath and arrived at an answer even I found hard to imagine: this might be an Immortal, not an artifact spirit at all!
And who could the Immortal imprisoned beneath this place be? Could he actually be the Patriarch's enemy?
It was very possible. Perhaps the Patriarch had captured someone and, on a whim, planned to torment him for countless ages, so he locked him up here. Then the Patriarch died, forgetting that someone was still trapped below. That Immortal had actually cultivated to fruition inside and become an existence that had attained the Dao and entered the Transcendent Realm!
But just as I thought of this, I overturned the idea. The Patriarch had said that he had only imprisoned artifact spirits inside.
"Ah, I truly don't recognize any of