Uncle Lin, who should have been dead for ages, wore an eerie expression as he spoke in a piercing voice thick with venom.
Zhao Sanshan and the others froze.
Disbelief filled their faces.
"Uncle Lin, you're not dead? What happened to you?"
Uncle Lin gave Zhao Sanshan a sinister look. "Shut up. If you bastard hadn't brought an outsider to the ancestral hall, how the hell would anyone have found me?"
"But what does it matter if they did?"
"You're all going to die. Every last one of you will become fuel for me."
"Die!!"
Uncle Lin showed no sign of muddled wits. His thoughts were perfectly clear. As soon as he finished speaking, he lunged at Zhao Sanshan, moving like a leopard. In an instant, he was upon him, raising a claw to rake down across his skull.
Horrified, Zhao Sanshan hurriedly dodged backward.
But he was still too slow.
He saved his head, but not his chest.
Uncle Lin's green claws tore several ghastly gashes from his shoulder downward. Pale flesh curled back and blood poured out, yet the wounds rapidly turned blue-green.
The searing pain tore a shrill scream from Zhao Sanshan.
Seeing this, the other young men rushed at Uncle Lin.
Even if they did not know exactly what had happened, they could tell that the Uncle Lin before them had likely become a monster.
A dozen or two young men charged him at once.
Some threw punches; others swung blades.
Unfortunately, their cultivation was far too weak to pose him the slightest threat. Even when a blade struck Uncle Lin's back, it could not cut through its hardened surface.
"A monster..."
Their horror knew no bounds.
Just then,
Li Yun shot forward like lightning, his fist flying before he reached his target.
His form was