The atmosphere inside the hall was oppressively grim.
Seven corpses lay before the altar in bizarre states of death. They had been evenly divided into twelve pieces, then reassembled into whole bodies after death.
Splattered blood stained the murals. Nuwa was depicted holding yellow clay as she created humans, yet now the image was drenched in blood, looking incomparably sinister.
The craftsmen were terrified beyond measure and immediately began blaming one another.
"Wang Lao'er, if it weren't for you, how could we have accidentally bumped into Empress Nuwa?!"
"You deserve to fucking die!"
"My fault? I said eight people wouldn't be steady enough to carry it. Who insisted on rushing the work?"
Their argument grew fiercer and fiercer, and they nearly came to blows.
"Shut up!"
Old Chen, the most senior craftsman, cut off the quarrel. "Staying alive is the priority. We won't be safe until at least dawn."
"What are you standing around for? Cover the living people's Yang Fire with stone powder..."
Tap, tap.
The sound of pebbles falling echoed through the corridor outside the hall.
Old Chen's face went pale. He hurriedly smeared stone powder over his eyelids, and the other craftsmen followed suit, pressing their backs against the wall without moving.
They did not dare look up, but Yang He saw everything clearly.
"What... kind of ghostly thing is that?"
Yang He's scalp went numb. At last, he understood why it was called a flawed divine statue.
More accurately, it would be better described as a defective product.
Beyond the open doors and windows, a Nuwa Statue walked toward them with a smile. Its posture was extremely unnatural, and cracks covered its entire body.
The fissures resembled the gullies left in a dried-up riverbed, opening and closing continuously as it moved.
Beneath them was exposed vivid