Shadow Hall

This thing was actually a locator—or rather... a medium for casting spells remotely.

The moment Old Man Ying died, the organization behind the token immediately sensed it and tried to use the token to leave a tracking mark on his Divine Soul.

"You want to put a dog leash on my Divine Soul? Not a bad idea. You just picked the wrong person."

Xuanyuan turned into a narrower, darker alley.

It was piled high with junk and reeked of damp and mildew.

He leaned carelessly against a mottled wall. With a thought, the pitch-black token appeared in his palm.

It was still cold and heavy, but now the two eyes in the ghostly face at the center of the black lotus faintly glimmered with a darkness deeper than the night.

A thread of black energy, thin as a hair and writhing like a venomous snake, slithered out of the token, trying to creep across his palm and into his body.

The energy was full of sinister, deathly power. An ordinary cultivator touched by it would suffer damage to their Divine Soul at best, and have their mind stolen at worst, becoming a walking corpse.

"Such a paltry trick, and you dare show off in front of an expert?"

Xuanyuan scoffed, not even bothering to lift an eyelid.

Rather than using his own power to block it, he opened his Divine Soul's defenses a little, allowing the black thread of energy to cautiously probe its way inside.

Like an experienced hunter deliberately exposing a weakness to lure its prey into a trap.

The moment the black energy touched Xuanyuan's meridians, it seemed to tremble with excitement. Then it surged upward, straight toward his sea of consciousness.

Just as it was about to reach its destination and carve the mark of "Hidden"