There was something eerie yet fascinating about humans. Most of them were weak, even if they thought themselves strong, and only a handful were able to cultivate their minds and bodies.

Still, he liked seeing them going on about their short, pathetic lives, indulging in trivial activities like drinking or gambling as if they had all the time in the world.

None had ever approached him; even their lazy insect minds had enough survival instinct to understand that he was dangerous.

Until today.

He was watching as some young men had a drinking match when he saw someone approaching the men, no, not the men, him, from the corner of his eye.

The human dressed in the attire of a nearby cultivation sect, something about it probably indicated their rank, but he didn't care enough to know that far.

He was, however, intrigued. Cultivators often thought themselves superior to demons or ghosts, and it was probably true for lesser ones. But all were still too weak to come out unscathed from a fight against him.

Still, he was bored, so he allowed the fearless little human to approach him.