Chapter 200: A Coffin On The Back
Cloaked in the darkness of night, the figure approaching the graveyard cast an unusual silhouette. He wore a finely tailored dark gray robe, its fabric catching the faintest glimmer of moonlight. His pristine white gloves seemed oddly out of place for someone engaged in such macabre work.
For a grave robber, he looked almost refined—too polished for the task at hand. Yet, the large, square coffin strapped to his back, nearly as big as he was, revealed his true nature. It was a telltale mark of the Silent Harvest Sect, or at least, the false goddess had said so.
I was suppressing my Qi but couldn’t hide my presence completely. Still, the grave robber either wasn’t paying attention, was acting like he couldn’t sense it, or had terrible Qi sensing. My money was on the last option. Nonetheless, I remained cautious in case he was pretending.
The man carefully lowered the coffin beside a freshly made grave, its polished wood gleaming under the pale moonlight. A loud, drawn-out creak sliced through the quiet night when he unlatched the lid, causing him to wince. His head snapped up, and his eyes scanned the darkness with tense urgency.
After a long, silent moment, he let out a sigh of relief. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he returned to his task. The eerie stillness of the graveyard was once again his only companion.
He reached into the coffin and pulled out a shovel, its metal glinting under the moon’s light. He began digging into the soft soil with practiced precision, each scoop adding rhythmically to the growing pile. I stood silently, watching as he worked, completely unaware of my presence.
Gradually, I loosened my hold on my Qi, letting it ripple into the night like a rising tide. At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone but the most attuned, like Song Song. But as I released more, the air thickened with it, my presence unmistakable even to the most untrained senses.
Then, I unleashed a sharp pulse of Qi, a brief but powerful flare that no Cultivator could ignore. It radiated out into the night like a beacon. Yet, to my surprise, the grave robber remained unfazed. He continued shoveling, his movements steady and unhurried, showing no sign of noticing the energy saturating the air around him.
I frowned. Either the guy was a great actor or a terrible cultivator. By this point, the odds of him pretending seemed slim.