Zhou Cai's expression changed abruptly, and she sprang to her feet; the Daoist also stiffened, frozen where he stood.
Outside the hall doors, a figure approached at an unhurried pace.
Black robes, ink-black hair, an impassive face.
"You!" The Daoist's eyes widened as he stared at the newcomer in disbelief.
Of course he recognized him. They had only just been discussing how to deal with him. Yet the aura emanating from him now made the Daoist tremble with fear.
Ghost Gate? No, stronger than Ghost Gate!
Life-and-Death Coffin!
The Daoist's pupils shook. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming.
Chu Mo stepped into the hall, his gaze sweeping indifferently over everyone before settling on Zhou Cai in the temple master's seat. Then he waved a hand, and her body flew helplessly to one side.
"I'm taking this seat," he said flatly.
After he lifted her into the air, Zhou Cai's face turned livid, then flushed red. Shame and fury filled her, mingled with an inexplicable terror.
Everything she knew told her this man was a nominal disciple of the Azure Mist Temple. But how could anyone go from the early Yin Netherworld stage to a high-level Life-and-Death Coffin cultivator in a single day?! These two conflicting perceptions tangled together until she felt her mind might split apart.
Struggling to remain composed, Zhou Cai said, "Chu Mo, you're a disciple of the Azure Mist Temple, and a Gravekeeper too. How can you-"
Before she could finish, she met a pair of fathomlessly dark eyes.
In an instant, Zhou Cai felt as though her soul had plunged into the Netherworld, her life and death no longer her own to command. The ghost creature that habitually ran rampant inside her dared not move now, afraid of being caught like a fish