After a moment of silent pondering, Mu Xi said gravely, “Those corpses are most likely martial artists who’ve come here recently. I just don’t know how many of the people made it into the depths of the ruined temple alive.”

Ning Sihua’s clear eyes turned toward Su Yi. “Fellow Daoist, can you tell how they died?”

“A grand formation,” said Su Yi flatly. “It’s similar to the one we saw deep within Bloodthistle Yao Mountain, except this formation is obviously the work of a Buddhist expert. Except…"

He paused to think, then said, “This formation’s power source has obviously been corroded by malevolent energies. As a result, the phenomena it produces now carry a strange and unnatural aura.”

He then glanced up at the hundreds and thousands of unearthly black illusory lotuses overhead. “If I’m not mistaken, the power sealed beneath this formation almost certainly belongs to a yao or demon.”

A yao or demon!

Ning Sihua, Mu Xi, and Lan Suo’s gazes were instantly solemn.

But Su Yi? Even as he spoke, he had already continued on his way.

The Sanskrit sutras were like the secret whispering of ghosts. The sound was cold, eerie, and terrifying. 

The entire stretch of heaven and earth was dark and oppressive, especially the entryway to the ruined...