Tian Ze Escapes (3)

To Tian Ze, Ye Qingcang and the others' appearance was practically ghostlike.

Silent and soundless.

Without a trace.

Before he could react, several people suddenly appeared before his eyes.

It was no exaggeration to say that, from Tian Ze's perspective, Ye Qingcang and the others had emerged from thin air without the slightest warning.

However, for Corpse Driving Demon, Yan Lingji, and Hundred Poisons King, the three experts who had followed Ye Qingcang inside, the experience was only marginally better. They were not like Tian Ze, whose body had visibly jolted in shock upon suddenly seeing visitors while completely unprepared, looking absurdly comical while bound in chains. Yet everything they had seen and heard along the way far surpassed Tian Ze's experience. Their shock was not less than his—it was far, far greater.

Could you imagine a hole suddenly appearing in the black iron gate before you, with the material inside transformed into water from black iron, only to revert to black iron after they passed through, seamless and flawless in appearance?

If they cultivated martial arts,

then Ye Qingcang cultivated immortality.

They used martial arts.

Ye Qingcang used spells.

The two were utterly incomparable. They did not even qualify to be compared.

They had thought Baiyue's secret arts were strange enough.

Whether it was gu or poison,

they were impossible to guard against.

Impossible to trace.

That was how people of the Central Plains described them as well.

They called their witchcraft heretical and crooked ways.

Their insults were even harsher than "unorthodox paths."

Though they had always refused to admit it in the past, even if they now acknowledged it in order to decipher Ye Qingcang's methods, they still could not grasp the principles by using their so-called heretical arts to understand them.

Forget the principles—they could not