Nether Thunder Douluo's death finally struck fear into the Holy Spirit Cult. A ghost lurking in the shadows, capable of slaying Titled Douluos, had finally frightened this band of deranged Evil Soul Masters.
All the elders gathered underground at the Green Hotel, seated in a circle. At their head sat none other than Zhongli Wu. Repeated, devastating losses had finally worn through his patience.
"Didn't I tell you to watch out for one another?" Zhongli Wu struggled to contain his anger, but his voice still rose almost to a roar. "You've let him escape time and again! What good are any of you?"
There had been no word from Mask Douluo either, and Zhongli Wu had already guessed that he had most likely died at Mu Feng's hands. Mu Feng alone had slain three of the Holy Spirit Cult's eight great elders. The loss made Zhongli Wu's heart ache.
"Since he wants to wipe out the Holy Spirit Cult to the last man, we'll turn his own scheme against him," Zhongli Wu ordered. "We'll send someone out as bait. I'll personally lead the Twelfth Worship in an ambush farther away. Who is willing to take on this task?"
The five remaining elders exchanged glances, but none uttered a word. Anger welled up in Zhongli Wu, though he knew Mu Feng had already shattered their courage. He sighed and said, "I'll give him three Class 8 soul-tool protective barriers and promote him to the Offering Hall afterward."
Everyone remained silent. Just as Zhongli Wu was about to explode, Grand Elder Li Lizheng, seated to his right, spoke up. "I'll go."
Li Lizheng had little choice but to step forward. Unlike the other elders, he rarely showed himself within the Holy Spirit Cult. Having reached rank ninety-four, he was only one step