Traces of the Demon King

Wei Ling's magic treasure could only be used for reconnaissance. It could silently observe events occurring far away, and was quite similar to Chu Zhixian's Great Ji Ancient Mirror.

Unfortunately, it could not transmit sound. Thus, he could only guess what Yuan Ming was discussing with others from the expressions of the little figure condensed from the liquid.

"Just this information alone isn't easy to report," Wei Ling muttered hesitantly.

Just as he was considering whether to tell Wang Fulong about this, the liquid figure representing Yuan Ming in the copper basin suddenly lifted its head and looked at Wei Ling with a faint smile, their gazes actually meeting.

Wei Ling froze. His heart abruptly pounded, and just as he was about to react, a thick bluish-gray root burst from the ground and stabbed directly into his body.

Wei Ling was horrified, and his body was about to spring up.

At that moment, Yuan Ming's icy voice rang out beside his ear.

"Do not move!"

Along with Yuan Ming's voice, an inexplicable force enveloped Wei Ling. All sounds around him vanished, leaving behind nothing but silence.

Wei Ling's face was twisted in agony. At this life-or-death juncture, he erupted with unprecedented strength. Even with his body pierced through, his fingers still struggled to form hand seals, trying to cast a spell to save himself.

But in the next instant, another root drilled out and bound his body tightly.

At the same time, Yuan Ming had somehow appeared before Wei Ling and raised a hand to point.

Wei Ling's body went limp and collapsed to the ground, unable to move even the slightest bit.

The others in the camp went about their own business and did not notice anything happening here.

Seeing this, despair filled Wei Ling's eyes.

Yuan Ming concealed