"It was you, wasn't it?"
As his words fell, the young man slowly turned around to face him with the same indifferent look in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Yuan Ming stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The voice transmission. You warned me not to move when the blood drop approached."
For a moment, the young man remained silent, his dark eyes studying Yuan Ming with an intensity that made him feel exposed, as if every secret he carried was being laid bare.
Then the young man's lips moved. When he spoke, his voice was different. It sounded so cold that it felt like no human was capable of speaking like that.
Yet here he was.
"If you had exposed your cultivation at that moment, they would have taken you away."
The words were simple, but the weight behind them made Yuan Ming's blood run cold.
