Shortly after Ren Qing left, the gates of the Ten Thousand Immortals Temple slowly closed, and the jade statue returned to the altar.
The Corpse-Spirit Lord remained motionless on the street corner. His earlier struggles had ceased, leaving his eyes hollow and his brow steeped in despair.
He could no longer control his flesh. Corpse qi circulated along the pathways of the indestructible vajra body.
His vitality had completely dissipated, turning his skin an ashen blue mottled with corpse spots. Even his cultivation had unwittingly fallen to the Yin Immortal level.
What frightened him most was that the Yin Corpse Dao's inherited teachings were growing hazy in his mind. The cultivation formulas he had once known by heart were now mere broken fragments, as though they had never existed.
At the same time, somewhere on the outskirts of the city seemed to be calling to him.
Before long, the Corpse-Spirit Lord would instinctively make his way there-or someone would discover him, and he would become expendable material for a fellow disciple of the Yin Corpse Dao.
"W-what is that thing? It looks terrifying!"
As the Corpse-Spirit Lord grew increasingly inhuman, his appearance soon drew the attention of those nearby. More and more townsfolk stopped to watch from a distance, whispering among themselves.
When had the Corpse-Spirit Lord ever suffered such humiliation? The old Daoist, over two hundred years of age, nearly burst into tears.
A woman pulled her child back, her face full of alarm. "Should we report this to the authorities?"
"The authorities? What good would that do?" An old man narrowed his eyes and studied him for a moment before suddenly saying, "I know! He looks like one of the martial practitioners from the Fortune-Life Martial Hall. I hear their external cultivation is rather strange. Once they get