Crouching down, Lu Yin gazed at the ancient scripts glowing with a pale golden light beneath his feet. He reached out and touched them, but felt nothing—they seemed unreal. A profound sense of age washed over him as he looked at the scripts.
"Huh, Seventh Brother, these ancient scripts look familiar," Ghost Marquis said.
Lu Yin narrowed his eyes. "You've seen them before?"
"Inside the centipede's body? No, wait. These scripts are even older than the ones inside it. Right, Textual Prison! Do you remember when you were hunted by an Enlightenment Realm giant beast in Iron Blood Territory, and that old geezer Wen Qichen saved you by using Textual Prison? Doesn't this look similar?" Ghost Marquis exclaimed.
Lu Yin stared at the countless ancient scripts. They did look similar. He had seen Textual Prison more than once. The first time had been on the border battlefield in Wen Feng Liu Realm, when Wen Sansi used it to trap Yao Gu. These scripts looked a lot like the ones in Textual Prison.
"The more I look, the more they resemble it. They say the Wen family inherited a total of eighty-one Textual Prison scripts. If these really are the same kind of ancient scripts, Seventh Brother, you've struck it rich! There are far more than eighty-one here—probably thousands, even tens of thousands. Learn them, and the Wen family will call you their ancestor!" Ghost Marquis cackled.
Lu Yin wasn't nearly as excited. Learn them? How could he? If they were easy to learn, all those people with powerful family backgrounds would have learned them long ago. Yet he had never seen anyone use these scripts in battle, and Qiuhan Qing hadn't mentioned them either. Learning them had to be incredibly difficult.
Lu Yin leaped into the air and flew toward