A remote, desolate Small World.
Fat Head Cat sat upright, raising one front paw to rock the chair. Bai Yujun, lying in the rocking chair basking in the sun, suddenly opened her eyes. Her gaze pierced through the Endless Void, seeing the deck of a broken ship and the box...
A backdrop of damaged steps and crooked doors and windows.
Old Hui Xian's gaunt, deeply wrinkled face bore a compassionate expression. He wore an old monk's robe, washed until faded white and covered in patches, with ruin and decay behind him. His callused old hand held a string of ordinary prayer beads.
His sagging eyelids stirred slightly with age, and a trace of disgust showed through his compassionate gaze.
The box had been split open by Feng Ying's blade—or perhaps it had not been her doing.
The shattered box fell onto the deck with a thud. A black, sinister thing steeped in evil and ill omen rolled out. When it landed on the deck, it seemed to land in everyone's hearts as well. The fighting stopped of its own accord, and all eyes fixed upon the fist-sized black object.
Long-faced Heavenly King felt an inexplicable dread.
"What is that..."
He glanced at the silent Brocade-robed Elder across from him, unable to understand their purpose.
Those present were all well-traveled and knowledgeable. They could tell it was a section of spine.
Pitch-black, resembling a human spine. The instant it fell from the box and revealed itself, everything around it suddenly went silent. Whether cultivator, mortal, or immortal, all felt the crisis of impending catastrophe. The yellow-furred monster in the distance turned and fled without hesitation, overwhelmed by lingering fear and grateful that it had kept its distance. It no longer wanted the treasure, no matter how precious it might be.
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