Three days later.
The ever-present musty smell in the Shantytown had faded somewhat, replaced by a faint, rusty tang of blood.
Chen Ping sat inside the dilapidated wooden hut, his talisman brush suspended in midair. A drop of Demon Blood Vermilion clung to its tip, refusing to fall.
He wasn't drawing a talisman.
His gaze passed through a crack in the window. He seemed to be staring blankly, but in truth, he was focused on the Ancient Bamboo Slip panel in his field of vision, visible only to him.
[Name: Zhao Laosan (neighbor)]
[Lifespan: 0/52 (death energy clings to him, his time is up)]
Chen Ping's heart clenched.
He turned his gaze toward Wang Po, who lived across the alley and usually liked to stir up trouble.
[Name: Wang Po]
[Lifespan: 0/48 (death energy clings to her, her time is up)]
"One or two might be a coincidence, but everyone in the whole lane, except for a few, has their lifespan reaching zero today..."
Chen Ping looked away and set down his talisman brush.
A chill crept up his spine.
Over the past few days, public safety in the Shantytown had deteriorated sharply.
It had always been chaotic here, but before, it was mostly private fights between Rogue Cultivators or Bandit Cultivators taking advantage of the turmoil.
But lately, things had changed.
Far too many people had gone missing.
And they vanished without a sound, leaving not even a corpse behind.
Rumors in the Market claimed that an Evil Cultivator organization called the Black Sha Sect was infiltrating the lower levels of Taihang Market, specifically abducting Rogue Cultivators without connections to use as blood sacrifices and cultivate sinister demonic arts.
At first, Chen Ping had dismissed it as gossip.
But now, those glaring zeros on his panel were death warrants