Looking at the newcomer, Yan Zhaoge raised his brows slightly.
He was about thirty, forty years of age, with a full head of strange, seldom seen red hair, and two things that resembled boxing gloves covering his hands.
His pupils were yellowed; streaks of blood red light could be seen shooting out from within. He was also a fallen practitioner.
What caused Yan Zhaoge to take some notice was the fact that a few threads of blood vaguely extended from his back, leading deep into the clumps of black fog that was the devilish domain.
Feeling Yan Zhaoge's aura, the red-haired martial practitioner had approached to investigate it.
After clearly seeing Yan Zhaoge's appearance, a look of joy was instantly revealed on the red-haired martial practitioner's face as the bloodthirsty glow with his eyes could not be concealed.