The moonlight that had previously illuminated the clearing was suddenly swallowed by a viscous, undulating darkness.
Huo Yue felt the temperature plummet, not into a natural chill, but into a soul-deep frost that made her very marrow shudder.
Between her and the fallen Yun Li, a figure manifested from the ether—a silhouette draped in a cloak so black it seemed to be a hole torn in the fabric of reality itself.
A miasma of shadowy aura swirled around him, smelling of wet earth and ancient rot.
The figure did not immediately acknowledge the three women, and instead, he stared down at the smoldering remains of Yun Li with the predatory curiosity of an entomologist looking at a rare beetle.
"Hmm," the figure rasped, his voice sounding like dry parchment being torn. "Such a high-quality soul... the density of the spirit is remarkable for a native of this backwater region. The elder would surely give me a generous bonus if I handed him over intact for the Soul-Refining Vats."
