The air inside the secret passage grew suddenly frigid. Under the flickering, eerie green light of a lantern, a black shadow slowly took form—it was an old man with hair as white as snow. He was draped in a black robe embroidered with Netherworld Pavilion totems, his face a web of crisscrossing scars that resembled the cracked bark of a dying tree. The lantern in his hand dripped a dark liquid, which hissed as it corroded the ground beneath, sending up thin wisps of smoke.
"Who are you?" Mo Yunqian shielded Jinhuan behind him, his long sword leveled at the old man. He quickly realized, however, that a faint, swirling black mist surrounded the man, making it impossible for his blade to get anywhere near him.
The old man let out a sinister laugh that caused dust to fall from the stone walls. "Who I am is of no consequence. What matters is that the Dark Iron Token has surfaced, and it is time to reveal the truth of what happened all those years ago."
Chapter 118