The sudden shower of red light startled Nan Zheng. What happened next frightened her even more.
A faint, elusive aura arose beneath the statue and quickly enveloped the entire ruined temple.
The silver bells on her body stirred without wind, ringing clearly.
Who was casting Tribal Witchcraft so powerful?
What frightened Nan Zheng even more was whether the bells would disturb the Old Ancestor in the Black Coffin. What would she do if he took his anger out on her?
With a faint creak, the lid of the Black Coffin slowly shifted aside, revealing a narrow gap.
Nan Zheng looked back and nearly fainted.
At some point, someone had appeared in front of the Black Coffin.
It was a child, dressed in a front-fastening jacket, his hair tied in a topknot. He was small and thin, his face pale.
The child reached into the air, caught a strand of that exceedingly faint aura, and brought it to his nose to sniff. An aged voice emerged from him. "The smell of a false god."
Soon, those faint traces of aura vanished.
The child did nothing. He sat on the coffin, looking toward the distant Green Mountain.
Nan Zheng's face was even paler than his. She wondered what this thing was. She really had seen a ghost.
As though he knew what she was thinking, the child said, "You're right. I am a Sword Ghost. You may call me Sword Ghost Boy."
Of course Nan Zheng knew what a Sword Ghost was, but how could such a Sword Ghost exist?
Neither a Sword Ghost nor a Nascent Soul possessed independent intelligence or a soul before its original body perished, but the boy sitting on the coffin was clearly different.
"Guard me well. Don't let those wild beasts wake me."
Having said this,