Beneath the gloomy sky, Ji Li saw the girl who had haunted him since her first appearance. That trembling aura shed its brief unfamiliarity and returned as something forever etched into his bones.
The long robe had been spotless when he first stood on Bai E Hua Avenue. Now it was stained by the filth inside the jar.
Just like the soul that had lost all its memories earlier—pitiful, yet clean. Instead, from the moment he awoke, the shackles of fate wound around him once more, inescapable, locking him down again with a tyranny he could not cast off.
Lucidity did not mean good fortune; confusion did not mean sorrow, either.
Ji Li's gaze was cold and lowered. He silently bowed his head, concealing the brilliant red light, yet he still could not stop the evil spirit's crimson glow from surging forcefully through the entire space.
The Old Woman stood with her back to the evil spirit, motionless. She simply maintained her hunched posture, pointing one hand at Ji Li.
The next second, she casually swept the finger pointing at Ji Li to her side, as though merely stretching.
Immediately afterward, all seven jars beneath the gloomy sky, including the one against Ji Li's back, began to tremble. It was not violent, more like a strong wind passing over them.
Yet after that effortless gesture, the red light throughout the alley abruptly went out, vanishing without warning or a trace.
Ji Li frowned slightly and slowly raised his head, looking up at the Old Woman whose face was obscured by wrinkles.
He and the evil spirit were connected, and he could clearly sense its presence.
The evil spirit was still there. He could still feel it, and even knew that they were very close, yet he could not locate it.