This well was the core of the entire formation.
Huang Santainai's true form was waiting in the main hall.
She was even older than the manifestation in the mist earlier.
Her graying hair was twisted into a small bun, secured with a wooden hairpin broken in half.
The wrinkles on her face overlapped, deep enough to crush a mosquito between them.
Small and thin, she was wrapped in a dark blue cloth jacket washed almost white, her back hunched as she stood at the hall entrance, leaning on a black wooden cane worn to a shine.
Behind her stood two Yellow Immortals who had taken human form, a man and a woman, both in drab gray robes, their hands at their sides.
Neither pair of eyes looked directly at Yang Yong, but both watched him intently from the corners of their eyes, wary to the extreme.
"Deputy City Lord Yang, thank you for making the journey."
Huang Santainai spoke.
Her voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping wood.
Yet that very voice carried an indescribable sense of power.
Anyone who heard it would know this old woman was no ordinary person.
Yang Yong got out of the vehicle and casually patted nonexistent dust off his clothes.
His gaze lingered on Huang Santainai for a few seconds, then swept over the two Yellow Immortals behind her.
"Your Daoist cultivation is considerable," Yang Yong said evenly.
"When you scrape a living on the wasteland, the wind will take your bones apart if you don't have a few skills."
Huang Santainai smiled and waved a hand.
"You're the truly exceptional one, City Lord Yang. This paltry Daoist cultivation of mine is hardly worthy of your notice."
"That manifestation of yours earlier was rather interesting."
Yang Yong said, "To condense such a solid