The pitch-black entity suddenly twisted more violently.
The Yellow Teeth Old Man understood—it truly exists.
But, what is it?
The World-Honored One Buddha?
Or that ancient will who submitted and self-proclaimed as the Northern Emperor?
Or perhaps, something else entirely?
He couldn't figure it out.
As he was about to continue probing,
The Yellow Teeth Old Man saw the pitch-black entity, suppressed and shackled by the array, unexpectedly swirl into a massive vortex,
and after a while, something actually emerged from within the vortex.
That thing shot straight out from the array, landing accurately at the Yellow Teeth Old Man's feet.
He bent down to pick it up and examined it carefully—it's a fragment.
A fragment of an unknown entity, still smeared with soil. When he brushed off some of the dirt and sniffed it, the Yellow Teeth Old Man's expression subtly changed:
"Netherworld soil..."
He exhaled, then looked again at the mass of pitch-black entity, cautiously asking:
