Struggle, stench, suffocation... all kinds of hair-raising sensations crashed down on Tong Guan at once.
Even though he would not die—could not possibly die—he could still fully understand just how despairing and agonized the real Zhai Ziyu was at that moment.
Death was fake, but the pain was real.
Unlike Zhai Ziyu, Tong Guan understood his own situation. When he saw through the arrival of his death, he could calmly avoid waiting for death and use his mind to think through the problem.
Perhaps because he had experienced it firsthand, he received the same information as Li Guanqi, yet recognized the issue earlier.
From He Qing to Zhai Ziyu, the different actions of the two people had resulted in different manners of death, both of which carried an unmistakably intense sense of ritual.
And this ritual had long been portrayed vividly in countless mystery horror films—the seven deadly sins.
Judging by the manner of death, He Qing had undoubtedly died for the sin of wrath, while Zhai Ziyu had plainly died for the sin of gluttony.
Tong Guan was more guarded than most, which also meant his thoughts were more meticulous. Before Zhai Ziyu died, he had proposed the theory of the seven deadly sins ahead of Li Guanqi.
Before the countdown above his head could reach zero.
Real death descended upon Zhai Ziyu. Tong Guan empathized with him more than anyone, as though he too had joined that fear of drifting beyond the soul.
For that half second, it was as if he and Zhai Ziyu had truly become one, tasting that singular flavor of death.
This was the second time he had experienced such a feeling.
And when his soul was reborn and gathered again after death, that unique experience of soul transference further elevated his theory of