At the Seventh Sacred Peak, in a mountain villa.
Li Ling prepared for seclusion in Ju Huang's territory. As he waited, he calculated the timing precisely and offered a stick of spirit incense on the incense table.
This incense was called Returning Soul Incense, but it was not the low-grade spirit incense that had borne the same name in the past. It was a new variety he had attempted to improve in recent days after comprehending the Sacred Fruit's incense essence and savoring the method of soul summoning.
As the incense burned, strange, mysterious wisps stretched far into the distance, piercing the void and drifting toward the distant sky like ethereal smoke.
Through unseen karmic connections, it seemed to link him to a certain presence in Bashan City.
Before the incense burner stood a Blackwood Memorial Tablet, freshly carved by one of Ju Huang's subordinates. Its workmanship was crude, but the name engraved on it was unmistakably Hu Lao.
Indeed, under the pretext of entering seclusion, Li Ling had made preparations for soul summoning by erecting a memorial tablet for Hu Lao in this secret chamber and offering a stick of spirit incense-at precisely the moment Hu Lao breathed his last.
At that moment, Hu Lao's three souls left his body and his seven spirits scattered. In an instant, he was like someone who had fallen from a ship into the sea. Boundless cold soaked through him, and his primordial spirit immediately began to collapse.
This was a consequence even a late Core Formation expert could hardly endure.
The ghost cultivators of this world were transformed from living souls, but that transformation was far from lossless. The losses were considerable.
Folk sayings often spoke of losing one's soul and spirits, or having one's soul and courage frightened away. In essence,