"...Jiang Xiaoyu, do you think death is a reward?"
The voice of the dry corpse was hoarse and dry, indistinguishable between male and female, and extremely uncomfortable to listen to.
It was like a radio receiving signals in interference, full of noise and painfully piercing.
But for some reason, Li Muyang found this voice eerily familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before.
And its question was even more bizarre and sinister.
Watching the indistinct figures of Demon Cultivators in the surrounding mist, Li Muyang remained silent for a full three minutes before finally speaking slowly.
"Are you the Fox Immortal?"
"Was it you who brought me to my parents back then?"
The question of Li Muyang made the dry corpse in the mist let out a hoarse, mocking laugh.
The corpse, wrapped in white cloth, looked eerily daunting.
But for some reason, the image of it standing quietly with its back to Li Muyang somehow bore a nameless desolation.
