Daoist Chang Qing, a man who had extinguished many such entities, at this moment did not dare to touch these lesser spirits even a little.
He knelt on one knee, motionless, his head hanging low, not daring to look straight ahead.
He did not know how much time had passed when the wooden door seemed to be suddenly blown open by a gust of wind, creaking loudly in the eerie, silent night, as if amplified several times, and it was particularly chilling.
"Come in."
A hoarse, deep male voice came from inside.
Chang Qing's pupils contracted slightly, and after a long while, still covering his chest, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and struggled to his feet, slowly stepping through the wooden door.
If it had been in a brightly lit place, one could clearly see that Daoist Chang Qing's lips were as pale as a ghost's, quivering a few times, but ultimately he stepped in without saying a word.
