In that instant, Wang Xian felt a chill surge violently from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head.
The moment that strange mass of mist drilled into his body, all the blood in him seemed to freeze, while his limbs stiffened as though bound by invisible chains.
He instinctively reached forward, but his fingertips touched only empty air.
A wisp of mist seemed never to have existed, yet it had truly and unmistakably invaded his body.
"You—you... what exactly are you?"
Wang Xian's voice trembled, tinged with unwillingness. He could clearly feel that something indescribable had appeared inside him.
The sensation made his hair stand on end.
"I am Wuyue."
A haunting voice echoed through the darkness, as cold and clear as moonlight reflected in a frigid pool. "I was once the saintess of the Corpse Immortal Sect, but Mu Qingfeng harmed me... As it happens, you killed him!"
"It wasn't me... Old Zhang killed him. You've got the wrong person!"
Wang Xian stood rigidly in place as cold sweat slid down his temples, soaking his collar in an instant.
Suddenly recalling something, he muttered to himself, "Since you were the saintess of the Corpse Immortal Sect, how did you end up in Hundred Flowers Valley?"
Wang Xian remembered that his master had once told him all kinds of legends about the great desert, including terrifying tales of soul possession.
Those powerful cultivators could seize another person's body and devour the original owner's soul.
"Holy crap... You're trying to possess me?"
Wang Xian was so frightened that he could barely speak coherently. He thought to himself, If I'd known this would happen, I might as well have become Liu Chenyu's cauldron.
Wuyue seemed to be amused by his words.
She let out a faint sigh.