The sword ghosts remained locked in mutual slaughter, the stench of blood growing ever more pungent.
Li Mo stood in the center, his form far from resembling that of a cultivator, his luminous skeletal frame even more eerie and inexplicable than the sword ghosts themselves.
"Jie jie jie."
As Li Mo walked, bits of fragmented flesh fell sporadically to the ground.
He observed the Calamity Worm, which struggled desperately while attempting to channel spiritual power, only to find itself hopelessly bound and powerless.
"Ye Zhuo, I had originally intended to feign death for a few years to cultivate in seclusion, and now you've ruined it all."
The Daoist Ye Zhuo gave a sheepish grin but said nothing.
Li Mo, missing most of his flesh, should have been gravely injured, yet his presence felt even more menacing, as though he surpassed the Void Refining Stage by an unimaginable degree.
"Senior Brother, are you… are you something akin to a deceitful object?"
