Time rewound to three days earlier, inside the Evil Soul Master headquarters east of Dusk Sleep City.
Demon Douluo sat cross-legged at the very center of a formation, his bony hands continuously forming all manner of strange gestures.
A group of evil soul masters sat around the formation. Whatever Demon Douluo did, they did the same.
Dense blood aura hovered above the formation. Everyone moved in perfect unison, like the scene of some ritual.
After a quarter of an hour, Demon Douluo stopped moving and rose to walk outside the formation. However, the other evil soul masters remained seated, maintaining their postures as they continued to surround the formation.
Not far outside the formation, a man who seemed steeped in an eerie air had witnessed the entire process.
He said to Demon Douluo as he approached, "Old Demon, you truly deserve to be a senior. What you just did was something I'd never even heard of!"
The corners of Demon Douluo's mouth lifted slightly, seemingly pleased by the flattery.
"Wraith boy, the history of my Abyss Demon Sect is no less illustrious than that of Spirit Hall. Naturally, we possess secret arts that small factions like yours know nothing about."
"Of course. This junior's faction was never that large. How could it compare to yours, Senior?" Wraith Douluo appeared exceedingly humble, but inwardly, he had already thoroughly cursed Demon Douluo's ancestors for eighteen generations.
Though Wraith Douluo was a smiling tiger, he still possessed the basic traits of an evil soul master—he would not permit others to casually judge him or anything that belonged to him. Whoever dared to do so would be slaughtered.
What was more, he was a Titled Douluo-level soul master. One only had to look at the conduct of an ordinary Titled Douluo like Dugu Bo