Li Yanchu’s gaze fell on the large black dog. This fierce, massive creature raised by the southwestern cultivator Zhang Ping had a sleek, glossy coat and moved with a quiet, deadly grace. Its eyes would occasionally show faintly humanlike expressions and flashes of intelligence that startled Li Yanchu. It reminded him of Blackie back at the Daoist temple, whose face often bore that roguish, devil-may-care smirk. Compared to that one, this big black dog actually looked less human. The dog moved swiftly, disappearing down the pitch-black corridor almost silently as it ran. Even Master Shenshan and Daoist Master Yuanyi paused, seemingly placing great trust in this unassuming middle-aged man. Wang Yunting stood with his arms crossed, and a flicker of disdain flashed in his eyes. By rights, he was the legitimate Mojin Xiaowei, a professional tomb-raider by bloodline. Having Zhang Ping send a dog ahead to scout the path felt like a challenge to his expertise. As the seconds ticked by, Li Yanchu began silently reviewing their party. By the light of the torches, everyone's faces looked ghostly and uncertain, flickering with shadows. Follow current novᴇls on novel✦fire.net In total, there were representatives from three Daoist temples and five Buddhist monasteries, each with two members. A few disciples remained aboveground to assist. Then there were the wandering experts: the yin-yang master, Granny Chang, the deathly pale Old Ghost Wu, Yan Chixiao, the scholarly tomb-raider Wang Yunting, the ferryman Hu Li, the beast-tamer Zhang Ping, and Mr. Ma with the Immortal Summoning Art. Including himself and Bai Hongtu, that made twenty-six people in total. Roughly the time it took to burn half a stick of incense later, the ferocious dog returned. It let out a few low, urgent barks to Zhang Ping, and Zhang Ping's expression darkened. Then suddenly, whoosh! Every single torch extinguished simultaneously, and the tomb passage was plunged into total darkness. A powerful gust of wind howled through the corridor, thick with a heavy, fetid stench as if something was coming. The change was abrupt, unnaturally so. The fire had gone out in an instant, and just as everyone’s vision was swallowed by darkness, the wind hit. It all happened in a flash. Seeing this, Li Yanchu struck instinctively with Divine Astral Hands, slashing toward the source of the wind. Just then, a powerful burst of energy exploded in the air. A heavy thud echoed in the tomb. Then, several high monks began chanting Buddhist mantras, and golden light burst from their bodies. In an instant, the dark tomb passage was bathed in their holy radiance. Master Huizhen moved in a flash, darting toward the depths of the dark corridor. At this moment, the practical effectiveness of Buddhist cultivation techniques truly came into play. It was extremely useful! By the time everyone regained their vision, a middle-aged Daoist suddenly pointed ahead, his face filled with shock and confusion. Everyone followed the direction of his finger and saw that Zhang Ping’s fierce black dog was nowhere to be found. As for Zhang Ping himself, his body had been severed at the waist, and his intestines had spilled across the ground. His face was frozen in an expression of utter terror. Immediately, a chill spread through everyone’s hearts. Zhang Ping had been killed! Then, a dark shadow shot out, instantly wrapping around a monk and dragging him into the darkness behind them. Master Shenshan suddenly struck out with his palm, and a golden flame appeared out of nowhere before slamming into the dark shadow. A sharp sizzle pierced the air, followed by thin tendrils of white smoke. That eerie sound abruptly vanished, and everything fell into silence once again, as if it had all been nothing more than an illusion. The group quickly reignited their torches, but this time, whether it was merely their imagination or not, the light seemed to reach a noticeably smaller area. Zhang Ping’s body had been torn to pieces and mangled beyond recognition. Even though beast tamers weren’t known for their combat prowess, the fact that he had been killed silently and so brutally in front of so many cultivators sent a cold shiver down everyone’s spines. This meant that whatever was hiding in the dark was strong enough to threaten the life of anyone here! Li Yanchu’s gaze sharpened like a saber. The malevolent beings watching them in the shadows... were likely more than just one. Zhang Ping had been torn apart, but the monk had been dragged away by a shadow, so there were clearly two different types of attacks. Master Huizhen had likely chased after the creature that killed Zhang Ping. At the same time, Li Yanchu swept his gaze over the gathered cultivators and activated his Qi Sight. There was another possibility that Zhang Ping had been killed in an instant not by some external evil entity, but by someone within their own group. When Li Yanchu used his Qi Sight to observe these cultivators, the intensity of the qi surrounding them made his eyes sting. Every person here radiated powerful energy, and no two auras were the same. At least seven or eight people turned their gazes toward Li Yanchu, clearly sensing what he had just done. “Qi Sight.” The Daoist who had earlier used the copper coin sword suddenly spoke, his tone tinged with surprise. “Didn’t think anyone still knew that technique.” Li Yanchu paused at those words. He wasn’t particularly familiar with these fellow Daoist practitioners. Is it because the technique recorded in The Yellow Court Classic is too arcane? The thought flashed through his mind. He had always assumed Qi Sight was a fairly common Daoist method. Sure enough, the Daoists from the various sects were now looking at him differently. They had thought he was just a disciple from some obscure little temple, but now it turned out he could wield a long-lost technique. Just then, Li Yanchu’s gaze settled on an unremarkable monk, and he suddenly furrowed his brow. This monk was as ordinary as they came, the kind that could easily be overlooked in a crowd. He wore the most typical monastic robes, looked to be in his early forties, with a calm, balanced face. There was nothing at all noteworthy about him. But... There was a bloody murderous qi swirling around him. According to the records in the Qi Sight, a bloody murderous qi was not the same as blood light. The latter indicated an ill omen, such as an impending injury or bloodshed. But a bloody murderous qi meant this person had recently been stained with blood, meaning they had likely killed someone. Back at the home of the Wuling Wanderer, when Li Yanchu captured the servant Song Yi, it was this exact qi that had revealed the truth to him. Now, Li Yanchu stepped forward and addressed the monk, “Master, may I ask your name?” With so many Buddhist and Daoist cultivators gathered for this Exorcism Assembly, Li Yanchu hadn’t been able to remember every name, and this monk was simply too plain and too forgettable. The middle-aged monk gave a slight bow and said calmly, “My name is Wuxing. What’s the matter?” Li Yanchu didn’t mince his words. “Master Wuxing, why did you kill Zhang Ping?” His words sent a wave of shock through the crowd. “You’re spouting nonsense! How could my junior brother have killed Zhang Ping?” a slightly heavyset monk shouted angrily. Each temple had sent two representatives, and it was clear these two monks were from the same monastery. Li Yanchu’s eyes were sharp as sabers as they locked onto Wuxing’s face. Then, he said in a deep voice, “Tearing a man apart in an instant is hardly a Buddhist technique. Who are you really?” Master Wuxing looked startled and shook his head. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Just then, Master Shenshan walked over. The esteemed senior monk of Jing’an Temple fixed his solemn gaze on both Li Yanchu and Master Wuxing with a grave expression.