Chapter 18: The secret heart.
The blood mist had yet to settle when silence strangled the field.
Not even the wind dared breathe.
Elder Wang's pupils shrank, his cultivation sense recoiling instinctively.
A single breath... no weapon drawn, no seal formed, and yet, his disciple was gone.
Even the soul fragments were devoured.
Zhao didn't speak neither there was any need for him to speak, after all, only hungry dogs barks all the time.
His gaze, calm as stagnant death, fell upon Elder Wang, a gaze not of threat, but of indifference.
The kind of indifference that made even Nascent Soul cultivators feel like ants crawling on the robe of an ancient god.
The Elder doesn't have enough face that Zhao needs to respect, a nascent soul dog, most of the time spent on alchemy.
What face does he have? It's a heavens granted gift that his wife has passed away, or else, he had to hand her over to Young Msster for a day or two to play around.
"You..." Elder Wang's beard twitched, but his voice cracked before the second word. He clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to retreat.