"What?!"
Li Xuantong strode quickly to Li Hao's side.
His aged eyes fixed unblinkingly on the black Soul Bag.
Li Wuyou's gaze did not leave it either.
The Soul Bag trembled softly.
An extremely faint spiritual light flew out from within it.
That light slowly gathered in midair.
It formed into a blurry figure.
Its face could not be seen.
Only its outline was visible.
Inside the room,
there was deathly silence.
Li Hao had originally thought
the Grand Elder would bow his head in worship the moment he saw the Old Ancestor.
Yet, to Li Hao's surprise,
the Grand Elder did not move.
He simply stood there,
staring fixedly at the blurry figure.
For a long time.
So long that Li Hao's scalp began to prickle.
"Grand Elder Grandpa?"
Li Hao asked softly.
"This is the Old Ancestor."
Li Xuantong ignored him.
He slowly spoke.
His tone was grave, holding not the slightest trace of respect; instead, it was filled with vigilance and wariness.
"Sir, I am Li Xuantong of the Li Family."
"May I ask you something?"
Sir?
Li Hao's eyes widened.
The blurry figure merely chuckled softly.
"Ask."
"Fellow Daoist said that the Li ancestral land was destroyed seven thousand years ago."
"Since it was the ancestral land, what was it called, and where was it located?"
"And who are you, Fellow Daoist? What position did you hold?"
The blurry figure did not answer immediately.
Li Xuantong continued.
"Sir said that the Primordial Scripture is a hereditary cultivation art of my Li Family, one that cannot be passed down to anyone but blood relatives of the Direct Lineage."
"This old man served two generations of family heads and managed clan affairs for decades..."
"There are only so many things that have been passed down through the generations