Sanguine and yellow smoke oozed from the mausoleum's pillars, blowing over Xinzi as he neared the entrance gate. The stench, like a mix of boiling flesh and rotting corpses basted in blood, was enough to throw even war veterans into an expeditious coma. But captivated by the maroon coffins, Xinzi ignored it — stroking the lids with an eerie peacefulness.
Over the past three months, Xinzi had a secret, a dirty secret that he kept concealed from all Liberation Temple girls — Tusha included.
He didn't have a choice. In each of these coffins lay a cultivator that had been drained to the last drop of blood by none other than Xinzi himself.
