Chen Wuya's palm remained aimed at the character "Hate," while the Misaligned Path Domain spun at high speed within his sea of consciousness. He could sense that aura was not coming from the air, but crawling upward from deep underground, carrying a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe.
The cult leader leaned against the rock wall, his mouth split in a grin as blood dripped from his chin. He laughed in fits and starts, his voice seeming to squeeze out from his throat. "What do you know... It isn't an artifact spirit, and it isn't a seal... It was piled together from the resentment of countless people... Breaking the cauldron only released its true form."
As his words fell, the character "Hate" suddenly trembled. The mist warped into the vague outline of a human face. Its eye sockets were sunken, its lips cracked, and its entire face looked as though it had been scorched by fire before soaking in water for far too long, tinged gray-black.
Bai Zhi stood three steps away, one hand already resting on her sword hilt. She wanted to rush forward, but her feet sank as if she had stepped into a swamp. The moment her sword intent rose, it was suppressed by that aura, until even breathing became difficult.
Chen Wuya did not move. His fingers curled slightly as Misaligned Force flowed backward through his meridians and surged into his sea of consciousness. The system interface flashed, and a prompt appeared:
[High-density negative spiritual energy detected.]
He understood. This was not something martial arts could break, nor something brute force could ward off. It was obsession—a thing formed from hatred accumulated over who knew how many years. The cult leader was right. This thing had been waiting for this day all