"Who else could it be but him?"
Elder Han saw the matter clearly and spoke bluntly.
"He came specifically for you. He obviously never intended to hide it."
"When exactly..." The Man-Eating Monk's expression turned utterly grim.
Elder Han said, "You'll have to ask yourself that. Curse arts have been exceedingly mysterious since ancient times. Some can be cast using nothing more than a drop of blood essence or an object the victim once used. Some rely on names and the eight characters of one's birth date, while others require different conditions.
"But I advise you to spend less time agonizing over how you fell victim and more time thinking of a solution. These things are very troublesome."
The subsequent developments proved Elder Han right. The scorched smell coming from the Man-Eating Monk grew stronger and stronger, continually emanating from within him until it gradually became a steady source.
The aura throughout his body became steeped in that smell, growing increasingly foul.
The Man-Eating Monk rapidly weakened. In barely half a month, his strength dropped by more than fifty percent.
More frighteningly, after weakening him to a certain degree, the smell began seeping into his limbs and bones, and even his mind.
The Man-Eating Monk spent his days in a stupor, suffering as though gravely ill.
He truly began to panic, seeking help everywhere like a desperate patient grasping at any doctor.
The Corpse Immortal Sect did not abandon him. On the contrary, it sent several experts to examine him.
He had been among the first in the East Sea to pledge allegiance to them. Even if only to erect a monument to their own virtue, they had to preserve him if possible.
But those experts were equally helpless against Li Ling's methods. Only after arriving did they realize that