Under the control of the black tide of worms, those eerie figures swiftly charged toward the stronghold. Even the few Outer Disciples who had fallen to the ground rose stiffly at that moment and surged over.
Chang An's expression turned horribly grim. Fortunately, he still retained a measure of reason and ordered the remaining disciples to fight back.
However, no matter what attacks the eerie figures controlled by the swarm endured, they did not feel the slightest pain.
These people were already dead, leaving behind only empty husks. Under the control of the Blood Soul Worms, they launched attack after attack.
One cultivator after another continued to fall.
Chang An's heart trembled with fear, and he could only lead his people into retreat as they fought.
Just then, he suddenly remembered something. He hurriedly raised his head and looked to the side, only to discover that Lin Fan, who had been there moments ago, had vanished without a trace.
Between the trees, a shadow darted and shifted like a ghost, but no matter what it did, it could never shake off the faint mass of black qi behind it.
No one knew how much time passed before the figure suddenly came to a stop.
At the same time, the mass of black mist gathered together, forming a blurry, distorted shadow.
The shadow twisted violently before slowly coalescing into the figure of an old man.
His body was somewhat hunched, his skin dry and shriveled, his eye sockets sunken, and his lips cracked. Yet his gaze toward the figure ahead held a trace of sinister coldness and curiosity.
The old man licked his lips and suddenly said, "Unlike those people, the scent on you is very unique. My worms like it very much."
"It has been a long time since I