Spirit Descent

At one moment, the blood mist dispersed, and the wails echoing in everyone's ears vanished with it. Beneath the Wooden Idol, the boy suddenly opened his eyes. He had no pupils, only bluish whites.

Sima Yi slowly raised his head. The instant his gaze met the boy's, terror surged from the depths of his soul.

"Your believer, Sima Yi, greets you, my lord!"

He hurriedly dropped to his knees again and knocked his head against the ground three times. Behind him, the many Yinyuan Sect Martial Artists knelt and bowed as well.

Suddenly, the boy opened his mouth and inhaled. A cold wind sprang up from nowhere, and the blood and vitality of everyone present, Sima Yi included, began to drain away.

Sima Yi felt a creeping chill and weakness, but he did not dare make a sound. He simply let the boy devour his blood and vitality.

His physique was powerful enough to withstand the loss for a while. Many behind him could not. They collapsed one after another, their bodies turning into dried corpses in an instant.

"Too weak!"

The boy murmured in a voice so cold and devoid of feeling that it was impossible to tell whether he was male or female.

Then he leaped away. Moving as swiftly as a drifting ghost, he vanished into the distant woods.

Sima Yi breathed a sigh of relief. When he looked back, a full third of the Martial Artists had become dried corpses.

They were guards he had handpicked, among the Yinyuan Sect's finest Martial Artists. To lose them just like that made his heart bleed.

"Sect Master, he's gone?" someone asked, his voice trembling.

"We have conveyed our wish. Now we wait. The Soul-Calming Office will have the headache, not us," Sima Yi said coldly.

"Yes, Sect Master!"