"Are you Lin Wudi? I've had such a hard time finding you!"
As the voice faded, a figure stepped into the hall, and a foul, cold stench filled the room. The man carried a frigid, fetid odor that was incredibly pungent. His hair hung to his shoulders, matted together and greasy, making his age impossible to discern.
Most peculiar of all were the many pouches hanging from his body. Each one swayed as if it held something alive, and the offensive odor emanated from them. As he entered the hall, his eyes immediately fixed on Lin Mu with a strange look in them.
This person is powerful! That was Lin Mu's first thought. At least, much stronger than Yun Xu.
"Indeed," Lin Mu replied, looking at the man without fear, his expression calm.
"Very good." The man nodded, glancing casually at Fang Fei's body on the ground. He sighed with a complex expression, "For my disciple to die at the hands of Lin Wudi... I suppose it's a blessing in a way."
