The instant the three-inch blade light forced back the death qi, the Ghostman ranks opposite them proved they were no ironclad whole.
The one from the Black Moon Clan was called Bao Mu. Purple light flickered on his forehead. His hesitation came and went quickly, but Li Xiang caught it.
He had not hesitated out of fear.
He was weighing his options.
He was assessing how much of a threat this blade posed, and whether a blood debt was worth sacrificing his clan's elites.
That judgment soon reached its conclusion.
In Li Xiang's [Qi Observation] vision, the ink-black mist around the Black Moon leader receded slightly, and the purple light on his forehead pulsed more slowly.
He retreated half a step.
That half step was barely perceptible, but to the vertical pupils of the Red-Rumped Ghost Ape beside him, it was more glaring than the sky collapsing.
The Red-Rumped Ghost Ape Clan had never known the meaning of retreat.
His scarlet vertical pupils widened, his fangs jutted outward, and he turned to roar at the Black Moon leader.
The Nether Tongue carried a furious rebuke. Though the words were incomprehensible, their meaning was easy to guess: how could a pure-blooded member of the Ghost Clan let a human scare him back?
The Red-Rumped Ghost Ape could wait no longer.
"Roar!"
A furious bellow tore through the Inner Cavern's silence.
The Red-Rumped Ghost Ape was called Sun Qingge. He strode out of the Ghostman ranks.
He carried a pitch-black iron staff as thick as the mouth of a bowl, its surface covered in nether inscriptions. It looked heavier even than his brawny, half-human, half-ape arms.
His eight-foot body thundered across the ground. With every step, the three sharp claws on his beastlike feet gouged three deep grooves into the black mineral