"Master! Tell your disciple—who... exactly are you afraid of?!"
The thunder roared, and so did the rain. Howling black mist of heavenly disaster swept violently past outside this tiny space, which was like a crumbling house on the verge of collapse, perhaps about to vanish without a trace in the blink of an eye.
Yang An gripped the longbow tightly, his hand entwined with an arm as flawless as jade, while his face was filled with rage.
The Workshop Master rose from the ground once more, breaking the eerie silence.
Ever since Yang An had blurted out those words, Fate Crane had remained silent, whether because he had nothing to say or lacked the strength to refute them.
The Workshop Master began walking toward Fate Crane step by step. Bloated, hideous roots drilled out from his body and plunged into the ground, and the platform made from Central Continent began transmitting flesh and blood into him.
He still intended to fight Fate Crane once more. Miao Ye's phantom emerged upon his body as well.
Tree, Workshop Master, Miao Ye, Central Continent.
The four merged into one, with the Workshop Master at the helm, intending to repeat the same mistake at this moment.
Behind a mask so shattered it could break apart at any time, the Workshop Master stared fixedly at Fate Crane's back. He arrived behind Fate Crane, and countless roots intertwined around his arm to form a sharp awl that shot toward Fate Crane's heart.
Yet just as the awl was about to touch Fate Crane, it suddenly stopped in an eerie fashion. The Workshop Master's hand froze in midair.
Fate Crane merely gave a light flick of his hand. Ferocious fire surged from his sleeve, dyeing everything blood-red, and he drew an object from within the flames.
It