Devil Master

Inside a sealed space.

The area here spanned no more than a li.

At the edges of the space stood layer upon layer of white light screens, radiating terrifying Spiritual Pressure that even Nascent Soul Cultivators would find heart-palpitating.

At the center of this space sat a middle-aged man in a pale blue robe, leisurely seated on a stone chair.

His long hair was half-bound with an azure jade crown, the rest cascading over his shoulders like spilled ink. His features were refined and scholarly, his bearing steeped in the air of books, as though he were a sage well-read in countless texts.

Seven slender chains of different colors could be seen piercing seven acupoints across his limbs, chest, and back.

Specks of spiritual light flickered along those chains before spreading outward and vanishing into the void, their destination unknown.

This man appeared to have been imprisoned here.

Yet he seemed utterly at ease, holding an ancient scroll in his hands as he read.

Just then, he sensed something. He set down the ancient scroll and looked ahead.

A sound like tearing cloth rang out, and a rift suddenly split open at the edge of the space before him.

As a burst of sword qi blasted forth, the opening widened, and a group of people rushed inside.

They were seven cultivators clad in black sword robes, their faces covered by black masks. Each held a chillingly cold longsword and radiated the exact same murderous aura. They were clearly all sword cultivators.

Their cultivation realms were also exceptionally high: five Core Formation Cultivators, while the two leaders were respectively at the Nascent Soul Middle Stage and Nascent Soul Early Stage.

The leader was tall and powerfully built, and he was the only one not wearing a mask.

His features were handsome