"You all... why can't you just die quietly?"
A voice as frigid as the Nine Nether Ice Soul suddenly echoed, its eerie tone seeping into their very bones, like the whispers of countless vengeful spirits.
Before the words had even faded, a stooped figure, gaunt as a dead tree, materialized from thin air. He appeared between the six Major Sects on one side and Ji Qinghui, Ji Qingkang, and their men on the other, forming an invisible barrier that blocked their reunion.
"Who are you?"
The man who had just appeared was ghastly pale, his face the color of paper. His emaciated body looked as if a gust of wind could snap it in two; he was the very picture of a man on his deathbed, wasting away from disease.
And yet, his bone-chilling words still echoed in their ears, and the bizarre aura clinging to him was as persistent as maggots on a corpse. All this made the brothers Ji Qinghui and Ji Qingkang halt in their tracks, their expressions as hard as iron.
