Deathly silence.
Pitch darkness.
There was no telling how long it had been since anyone had cleaned this cell. The moment Lian Youming entered, a cloud of dust billowed through the air, blotting out everything. And it was not just dust.
He scraped his foot across the floor and found a layer of finely broken bones, like gravel and sand.
Scattered phosphorescent glimmers shone faintly in the darkness, flickering all around like eerie ghost fires, enough to make one's hair stand on end.
Lian Youming reacted quickly. First, he swiftly restored his contracted muscles and bones, crackles bursting throughout his body. Then he hurriedly dealt with the traces he had left, replacing the little window in the door.
Only after finishing all this did he quiet his breathing and hold his breath. His muscles tightened, his spine like a bow drawn with an arrow nocked, and his eyes fixed squarely on the figure in the middle of the cell.
Though the cage was pitch-black, Lian Youming's eyesight still allowed him to see clearly.
Amid the rising dust and bone powder, fine steel chains crisscrossed the cramped, damp space like a spiderweb, entwined like monstrous pythons. There were six in all, each with one end embedded in the surrounding walls and the other embedded in that ghostlike body.
He truly looked like a ghost.
Lian Youming scuffed his foot against the floor before noticing the strands of white hair coiled and tangled there like strange snakes. At least five or six meters long, they spilled from the man's body and spread in every direction like the roots of an ancient tree, covering almost half the cage.
Despite having survived several vicious battles to the death and encountered many extraordinary martial artists, the sight stirred a sense of dread he had not