A damp, gloomy underground palace...
The hideous bronze Masked Man on the Bone Throne...
The errant believers whose lives had been drained dry...
The bloody sacrifices in the secret chamber...
The strange power the statue absorbed from the many devout believers...
Wuchen's memories were jumbled and chaotic.
Aside from the times he preached or handed out porridge in public, most of them were filled with darkness and blood...
"Hall Master..."
"Saint Sect..."
"Power of faith..."
Jiang Fan murmured under his breath.
After he had searched through Wuchen's memories completely, he pointed a finger, and force instantly pierced through the center of Wuchen's brow.
Wuchen's body stiffened, then collapsed limply, all breath gone.
"This Wuchen was nothing but a pawn. He knew very few secrets!"
"His memories were all about missionary work and control!"
"Other than his connection to that Hall Master, there was no path leading directly to the upper ranks at all!"
"Looks like if I want to investigate this thoroughly, I'll still have to start with that Hall Master..."
The alley had fallen quiet again by now, with only the faint clamor of the marketplace drifting over from afar.
The blue-clad woman's cherry lips parted slightly. She was already staring in a daze.
She had even temporarily forgotten the pain of her injuries.
She had witnessed the entire battle, brief to the point of shocking.
Wuchen, who had made her fight with everything she had only to suffer a crushing defeat and nearly lose her life, had actually failed to withstand even a single move before this young man. He had been dealt with as easily as crushing an ant?
What method had that been at the end?
A flick of his finger, and the other man's eyes had gone blank?
She could not help speaking.
"You... what