And that ancient being had already walked out of the mist, standing right in front of Zhang Fusheng.
The ancient being was of immeasurable height, wearing a half Taoist robe, a half Taoist temple atop his head, even the whisk in his hand was half-length.
Zhang Fusheng licked his dry lips, staring at this terrifying existence of unknown rank.
The half Taoist robe was stained with filth, while the other half of the body without the robe was riddled with scars, even oozing blood.
"Not speaking?"
The ancient being calmly questioned.
Zhang Fusheng's body was tense, his expression extremely solemn, yet suddenly relaxed with a smile.
"Half a Taoist robe, half a Taoist temple, half a whisk..."
He exhaled, thirty-six colors of light drifted behind him, the Primordial Cloud slowly flowing:
"I wonder what your name is?"
"Which one of the Taoists are you?"
