So soon, under the guidance of Qi Lin, the two walked through a passageway of several dozen meters and arrived at a small room, where there was something that could still be called a person.
Zheng Yi glanced at Qi Lin.
Qi Lin immediately understood, turned around, and left, returning to the altar above to guard for Zheng Yi, lest anyone disturb them.
Then Zheng Yi gathered his gaze again, looking at this thing in front of him that could barely still be called a person.
Zheng Yi had seen many cultivators in his life.
There were sect disciples high above, family descendants of cultivation families, loose cultivators hunted and fleeing in desperation, arrogant and unrestrained White Dao cultivators riding on horses, and also ruthless individuals on a singular path in the Demon Sect.
But no matter the type, Zheng Yi swore he had rarely seen someone in such a miserable state as the person in front of him.
