Instead of producing colors and miniature explosions inside the vial, the contact between his blood and the black substance produced... nothing.
That's right. The red blood turned colorless, and as if influenced by its change, the black liquid began to turn gray. Smoothly, steadily, both liquids formed an ashen mixture. And that was where the changes stopped.
Blinking in confusion, Han Xuhan looked at Lao Jun's face, only to realize that the old man was staring back at him with a look of abject horror.
"Fuck! Get the fuck away from me!"
Lao Jun screeched in a shrill tone, while leaping away so fast that his feet left holes in the soil. It was as if he was trying to escape death itself!
Han Xuhan turned towards Xuanyuan Zhou for an explanation, but she was doing the same thing, backtracking with her hands held up in a defensive posture.
Even the audience, the most enthusiastic participants in the mob, followed suit. Before he could form a response to their inexplicable reaction, a radius of thirty meters around him was cleared up.
What did the ancestry test reveal? Why did it terrify them? Did everyone except him understand the implications of the mixture?
Before he could voice his innocent inquiry, Lao Jun pulled out a small pipe from his pocket and blew on it hard, his gaze fixed on Han Xuhan like a hawk.
An unusually thick whistling sound emanated from the wooden confines of the pipe, alarming all of those present. Far away, amidst the residential tents set up by the caravans, numerous faces turned in their direction as a commotion broke out.
It seemed that even the outsiders—the family members and companions of the participants—had some idea about what was going on. They knew that the whistle meant something special.
Old man Lao Jun whistled three times in total, each taking up a minute. After putting it down from his mouth, he began wheezing for breaths.
Han Xuhan finally got the chance to make himself heard.
"Hey, what's going on?"
But not only did Lao Jun ignore him, Xuanyuan Zhou and the rest of the participants didn't seem interested in giving a reply either.
He could only continue to observe the situation and jump to conclusions inside his head. The possibilities weren't many.
Did any of his ancestors in this world have a huge enmity with this sect? After all, that was the main object of most ancestry tests.
At Crimson Snow Sect's level, most sects were likely to have a rich history marked by many adversaries; neighboring sects, rivalry between sect leaders, local clans, and demonic sects that were hated by everyone. If that was the case...
Han Xuhan somberly looked up at the sky and muttered,
"Heavens, I had a feeling that I was sent here to be tortured. But can you at least make it fair? Why am I being screwed over for something I didn't even do?!"
"Ah, ancestors. Little Xuhan is coming to you very soon. Start the preparations for a welcoming ceremony. And whoever among you is responsible for my death, you better be ready for a beating..."
Just as he was about to look away from the sky, he noticed a dark object shoot across a corner of his vision, approaching from the direction of the mist-covered mountains at the edge of the flat region.
The sharp sound of wind being cut filled his ears. Wrapped in fog, the dark silhouette traveled nearly a thousand meters distance in one breath, appearing right above their area like a shooting star.
The wind blew up a massive wave of dust, and its explosive landing threw out soil and gravel at everyone's face, leaving them coughing and spitting pathetically.
As the dust settled, a hush fell over the crowd. Right in front of the tent, a long ravine had formed, at the edge of which was a greatsword, emitting tendrils of fog. This was the object that had flown out of the mountains!
At least half of its length was stabbed inside the soil. But the visible half was already more than a meter long. With a silver blade that was wider than an adult's palm, the sword could probably serve the purpose of a hammer as well.
And just a few feet away from the ravine, an unfamiliar middle-aged man was standing with his hands held on his back. He wore a simple red robe, with a white seal on his chest that resembled a stylized snowflake.
Did he arrive here riding on that sword? Despite the tense situation, Han Xuhan couldn't help but imagine the scene. How could he not?
This was likely to be his first encounter with a legendary cultivator, wielding a flying sword!
Lao Jun was the first to recover, probably because he was expecting the newcomer's arrival. He rushed over to the man and whispered a few words in his ears. The man's gaze immediately fell on Han Xuhan, and a fierce glow lit up his eyes.
"Give me the vial," he said, snatching it from Lao Jun's grasp and pocketing it.
Before Xuhan could blink, the man was in front of him. And before he could react, his vision became a blur.
"Ack—!"
That was the last voluntary noise he managed to utter before all five of his senses were sent into disarray. The only sensation enveloping his consciousness was the loss of control over all of his bodily functions.
Vaguely, he felt the rush of wind slapping his face and ramming his eardrums. Heaven and earth seemed to become a chaotic mixture of blurry colors in his half-open eyes. He couldn't feel his limbs. But a burning sensation formed in his stomach.
Eventually, the chaos stopped. His senses began to return.
There was a sticky sensation all over his face. The scent of fresh grass was right under his nostrils. And the world felt extraordinarily quiet, except...
"My new uniform! Noooo!!!"
Han Xuhan blinked rapidly. He was lying sideways on the ground, staring at his own reflection on a wide silver blade inches away from his nose, jutting out of the soil.
The reflection was very clear. He had just thrown up all over himself, as well as the half-naked man wailing behind him.
His first meeting with a legendary sword-riding cultivator was off to a really poor start, it seemed.