A shadow flickered through Qing Luo's eyes as he lightly waved his wrist, and the Myriad Soul Banner emerged once more.
Amid the roiling, chilling ghostly aura,
Mo Lun's soul was summoned out by Qing Luo again.
"Master..."
Hiss—
Having appeared, Mo Lun was just about to flatter him first.
However, upon seeing Qing Luo's current condition, even though he was already dead, his scalp went numb and he sharply sucked in a breath.
Before him, Qing Luo
was pale as paper, his cyan hair like withered grass, utterly lifeless, his breath faint as a thread.
Blood scabs covered his body in streaks,
making him look like a crudely stitched scarecrow. Just looking at those blood scabs, Mo Lun could imagine the inhuman torture Qing Luo had endured.
The current Qing Luo no longer possessed his former detached, peerless splendor.
Instead, he resembled a dying old man who had suffered grievous injuries at any moment...
Seeing Qing Luo in such a state,
Mo Lun thought of an idiom: an old steed in the stable...
Serves you right!
You were so arrogant. Evil people would always meet someone worse, and even heaven couldn't stand the sight of you, so it came to take you!
Qing Luo's current plight
greatly pleased Mo Lun, but he dared not show it. His eyes were instead full of worry and fury.
"Master, who injured you?"
"How dare they injure my master? Mo Lun and they are irreconcilable enemies—we won't rest until one of us is dead!!!"
Mo Lun spoke with impassioned fervor. He even managed to squeeze two nonexistent tears from the eyes of his soul body, leaving Qing Luo momentarily stunned.
"Let me ask you this: have you adapted to life within the Soul Banner?"
Qing Luo ignored Mo Lun. His voice was as