Meanwhile, beneath the Luochen Clan mansion was a sprawling, underground necropolis. In one part of the necropolis was a lake of simmering blood, filled with countless floating skeletons.

The glitter of a spell formation could be seen surrounding the entire thing, and countless members of the Luochen Clan were prostrating themselves around the lake. There were men and women, youngsters and old-timers, all of whom knelt at key nexuses within the spell formation.

It was with utter solemnity that one by one, they would slice open their right hands and squeeze blood down onto the nexuses, which carried the blood into the central lake.

In the very middle of that lake of blood, an old man sat cross-legged. His hair was long and white, and he seemed threatening without being angry. With every breath he took, the lake of blood bubbled.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes opened, and they gleamed with a blood-colored glow.

“What’s going on!?” he demanded, his cold voice echoing throughout the necropolis.

One of the clan members closest to him was a young man, who looked exactly like the young man from up in the courtyard who had tried to kill Bai Xiaochun and the others. He leaned over and whispered, “Patriarch, three disciples from the Spirit Stream Sect showed up. It happened...