But how could Lin Jiaojiao fail to hear what he left unspoken?
She widened her eyes, trying desperately to see everything around her, but to no avail. She still could make out nothing except the murky gray mist.
She groped blindly around her and touched a familiar warmth. She knew this person was Hu Yucheng.
Elsewhere, the disciples of the Mystic Dharma Immortal Sect were locked in a bitter battle.
At first glance, this gray mist seemed harmless, but only those trapped deep within it knew where that hair-raising dread came from.
Suddenly, several hideous vengeful ghosts appeared within the gray mist. Unlike the ghosts before them, they were not formed from black yin resentful qi.
These vengeful ghosts looked more like a painting on a gray panel, except that the painting had been outlined in white pigment.
No yin resentful qi could be sensed coming from them.
There was only endless killing intent.
The vengeful ghosts within the gray mist often appeared in places that caught people completely off guard.
One might suddenly appear above a cultivator, or behind one.
They might look like wisps of mist, but their attacks were no weaker than those of any real vengeful ghost.
Their sudden ambushes were almost impossible to guard against, and before long, quite a few people had been injured.
One disciple had even suffered such severe injuries that he had lost consciousness completely.
Their supplies of Defense Talismans and Defensive Formations were clearly running low, yet no one could think of a way to escape. They had truly fallen into dire peril.
"How laughable. Among all our disciples, not a single one has studied purification arts."
Purification arts were generally obscure and difficult to understand. Many Buddhist cultivators studied them, but ordinary cultivators rarely did.
Yet just as despair