For a long stretch of time, the only sound in this dark mountain cave was the dripping of stalactites.
It knocked time into the stone.
Pfft!
A mouthful of blood sprayed out, swiftly turning blackish-brown. Emerald gleams swam through it like darting insects, leaping from the putrid blood—which had already begun to rot in midair—and returning to Yin Guan's body.
Wearing only a pair of black silk trousers, his sleek, bare upper body sat cross-legged at the center of the grim, frigid altar. His green eyes glimmered faintly as he watched the foul blood disperse in the air, falling like a cast fishing net.
Though this body, pale amid the flickering emerald light, had taut skin without a single crack, it was like an insect nest, allowing countless emerald gleams to shuttle back and forth through it.
The foreign elemental power lingering inside his body was thus expelled.
After obtaining the inheritance of Ten Thousand Immortals Palace, his methods had become far more diverse.
By building an assassin organization to plunder cultivation resources, he—who had never belonged to any sect or school—could now be said to possess a fairly complete cultivation inheritance.
Of course, curses were his foundation. Someone like him, who had spent years walking the edge between life and death, would never turn back to tread a road that had already been discarded. Even if the Era of Immortals had once produced a Transcendence, that was merely one kind of power, not a choice.
Shattering these ancient inheritances and swallowing them bit by bit as his own nourishment was precisely what he had always done.
Plop!
The foul blood struck the ground and swiftly corroded the rock.
It turned a slab of stone into pitted, uneven "honeycomb stone."
The curse patterns long inscribed around it reacted instantly, black