A Strange Weird Cultivator!

Only one word. No threat, no question, no needless talk.

But you heard what lay beneath it.

What that word concealed was more dangerous than the Bone Emperor's Ten Thousand Bone Banner.

An absolute, unquestioning confidence.

You knew you had been discovered.

From the moment you entered this underground space, he had known where you were.

The sound of the stone door opening and the surge of spiritual light when the Dingjun Sword awakened had not escaped his notice.

Yet he had not rushed in when you opened the door.

He had waited until now.

He waited until you gripped the hilt, until all your attention was fixed on the inheritance. Only then did he surround you with his people.

This was no coincidence. He had planned it.

You took a deep breath and pulled the Dingjun Sword free from where it floated.

The instant the blade left the stone platform, the entire chamber shuddered, as though someone had seized the heart of this underground space.

Dark-gold light erupted from the blade, illuminating every corner of the chamber.

The Formation Patterns carved into the walls lit up at once. They resonated with the sword's glow and gave off a low hum.

You turned to face the stone door.

It was still open. You had not closed it, and now there was no time.

Someone stood outside.

No. "Someone" was not quite right.

He was a tall, thin male Weird Cultivator in a robe black as ink, without a single ornament on it.

There was not even a line of embroidery. It was as black as cloth freshly pulled from a pool of ink.

His face was so pale it was nearly transparent, with the faint blue lines of veins visible beneath his skin.

His eyes were dark gray, without pupils—just