Other than a few large craters and a field of ash, the battlefield was almost devoid of any other traces.
An hour after Yang Jing left, an inconspicuous mound of dirt rose from the ground. A shifty-looking, middle-aged man tunneled out from within.
He looked more like a large rat than a man. His beady eyes glinted green, and several whiskers sprouted from his face. His hands were wrinkled, and his long, filthy fingernails were caked with black grime.
The middle-aged man stared at the ashes of his companions on the ground, his face a mask of terror. They had thought that with the eight of them working together, taking down Brother Guo, a cultivator at Qi Cultivation Perfection, would be a simple task. They never expected him to be a Sword Cultivator hiding his true strength.
The other seven had attacked together, only to be slaughtered with ease in a single instant. He had only managed to save his own skin by hiding underground for a sneak attack.
