Wu Ling stopped when he heard the voice and turned around.
There, he saw a yellow-furred weasel with a halo behind its head, sitting cross-legged with its eyes closed and muttering at him like some old mystic.
Wu Ling raised an eyebrow. He recognized it. This was the same yellow-furred weasel that had spoken when it was only a hundred-year Soul Beast. Unlike that time, it now had ten-thousand-year cultivation. What surprised Wu Ling even more was that its interior felt hollow.
After becoming a Spirit Sage and obtaining his Martial Soul True Form, the Throne of Heroic Spirits, Wu Ling had gained a concept of the soul, most likely because the Throne of Heroic Spirits was based on the Throne of Heroes.
And now, he could not sense the aura of a soul inside this yellow-furred weasel. It was like an empty shell.
Wu Ling wanted to test it, but seeing a weasel act like such a fraud of a mystic irritated him immensely.
Test what? Beat it until it talks, and I can get the information all the same.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Wu Ling walked up without another word and kicked it.
With a slap-like thud, the yellow-furred weasel was sent flying into the air. Wu Ling ignored its scream, then casually caught it when it was about to fall.
"Little weasel, do you remember me?"
He shook it as he questioned it.
"Slow down, slow down, my head! Treating this great immortal like this will bring karmic retribution," it said, shaking its head to clear itself before looking at the person disrespecting it. "Why does this young master look a little familiar... No, wait. Why would I feel that he is familiar?"
Its tone did not sound fake. Wu Ling had just been about to give it a hint when a bad premonition suddenly gripped him.
Then the yellow-furred weasel, which had looked lively only moments ago, kicked out all four limbs and died on the spot.
Wu Ling's expression changed. He immediately threw it away. While still in midair, the weasel's corpse burst with a soft puff and turned into a cloud of powder-like matter before dispersing into the world.
Then Wu Ling finally understood what had formed the thing: soul and deathly energy.
He had not sensed a soul inside it because its form itself had been made from soul matter. Afterward, an astonishing amount of deathly energy had covered it, both solidifying its form and hiding its real nature from perception.
"Interesting. A phantom with a physical form? Yes, that is close enough. Its expression looked lively, but its behavior was always restricted, like some shadow left behind in this place."
Thinking this, Wu Ling clenched his fist with a little excitement.
So what if this was strange? Wu Ling, confident in his skill, felt no fear. If the enemy was below level one hundred, he had no reason to be afraid. If the enemy was above level one hundred, then he could test the God-Slaying Spear's real purpose ahead of schedule.
Spirit Rings surfaced around Wu Ling. His red ring lit up, and golden armor and a long spear covered his body.
"I have to admit, after getting Karna, I have barely used my earlier Spirit Rings. My body is already strong enough. What I lacked were powerful weapons like Golden Armor and the God-Slaying Spear."
Flames erupted beneath Wu Ling's feet. After confirming the direction, he shot into the sky and flew toward the village he had visited before.
From above, Wu Ling looked down over the forest. Black patches of void dotted the earth, and even the distant horizon showed signs of collapse.
He ignored all of it. Right now, he had only one target: drag out this hidden boss and kill him.
With flight assisting him, a trip that would have taken half a day took only an hour. Soon, the village came into view. The many houses that had once stood there were gone. Only the largest building at the front remained.
In front of that tall, straight, pitch-black building, a stage had been set up. Scattered villagers sat beneath it while performers sang onstage. Wu Ling could not understand what they were singing, but judging by the music, it seemed connected to funeral rites.
Wu Ling did not interrupt them. He stopped at a distance first, then walked over slowly and sat in the last row of the audience benches.
He sat there quietly and listened. At the same time, the only "person" sitting in the same last row kept turning his head and sizing him up.
After a while, the opera onstage was about to end. The man had already moved beside Wu Ling and was constantly sniffing him.
The moment the opera ended, the man suddenly lunged at Wu Ling.
Being sniffed by a man had already made Wu Ling impatient. Now that the thing attacked him, Wu Ling slapped its head without hesitation.
There was a crack. The man's head snapped cleanly off at the neck. The sound drew the attention of the villagers in the front rows and the performers onstage.
Even with his head knocked away, the man still did not die. His head landed on the ground and shouted in excitement, "A living person! He is alive!"
Splat.
Wu Ling crushed the talking head beneath his foot. After hearing its cry, the villagers ahead all stared fixedly at him.
"Alive."
"A living person."
"He is alive."
A wave of low, rustling growls came from their mouths. Golden Armor wrapped around Wu Ling as his gaze turned toward the villagers.
The battle was about to begin.
Five seconds later...
Wu Ling stood on the stage. Both onstage and below it, piles of powder were slowly dispersing.
Then Wu Ling turned his gaze toward the tall, straight, black building behind him.
"Are you coming out yourself, or do I have to dig you out?"
"Heh. What impressive methods, young friend."
At once, the soul powder that had been dispersing around Wu Ling gathered together. At the same time, a vast wave of deathly energy, carrying a will so powerful that even Wu Ling felt alarmed, seeped up from the ground and wrapped around the powder.
At last, an old man appeared there. His hair and beard were white, and his body was thin and withered.
Wu Ling rested the golden spear on his shoulder. His face looked relaxed, but in secret, his body and nerves were stretched tight, ready to strike at any moment.
"Who are you?"
The old man took a deep breath after hearing Wu Ling's question. He did not answer. Instead, he asked a question of his own.
"What era is it outside now?"
Seeing that Wu Ling did not respond, he asked again, "Let me change the question. Since you can come here, you must be a monstrous genius in the outside world. Have you heard of Nine Nether, the Angel, and the Sea God?"
"I know the Angel and the Sea God. I do not know Nine Nether."
The old man's eyes narrowed. Wu Ling could sense a trace of anger in them.
"Then... what about Clear Sky?"
This time, Wu Ling nodded.
"I have heard of that. The world's number-one tool Martial Soul, right?"
"The world's number-one tool Martial Soul? Hmph. That is more like it."
The old man straightened slightly.
"Then allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tang Skybreaker. You may also call me the Ancestor of Clear Sky."