Within the Inner Realm, if there was one race Ghost Cultivators hated most, it was undoubtedly the Phoenix Race!
Because the Phoenix Race's Path of Space was simply the greatest nemesis of a Ghost Cultivator's Path of Concealment. Phoenix Race members could always locate them with ease.
Fortunately, there were not many pure-blooded Phoenix Race members, and few races were related to Phoenix Race bloodlines. So long as one's luck was not too terrible, one would basically never encounter one.
The Ghost Cultivator had never expected that today, he would suffer the worst luck of eight lifetimes and run into a Phoenix Race member here. The moment he realized it, he knew things had gone badly.
Moreover, judging from the methods his opponent had displayed, this Phoenix Race member had attained considerable mastery over the Path of Space.
He frantically urged his Dao force without holding anything back, shaking the surrounding area as he tried to break the distortion of space.
It worked!
Only two breaths later, the abnormality in space was shattered. Yet he froze where he stood, not daring to move, because a chill had come against his neck. Someone had already placed a saber against it!
The sharpness of that blade gave him the illusion that his head could be severed at any moment.
There was no need to look. The Ghost Cultivator knew what stood behind him.
Then a voice entered his ears. "Did you retreat from Level Fifty-One?"
The Ghost Cultivator's tiny eyes rolled around. Though he did not know why the other party was asking this, instinct told him that the best answer at this moment was yes!
"That's right!" the Ghost Cultivator answered in a deep voice.
"Swear it!"
The Ghost Cultivator's eyelid twitched. Just as he was thinking of how to muddle