The crack in the passage slowly widened, red light seeping from the gap like an opening eye. Chen Wuya knelt on the ground, both hands braced against the floor, his fingertips still trembling. He could feel that his connection to the Misaligned Space Domain had not been severed. That path was still there—it had merely become extremely unstable.
Bai Zhi stood beside him, one hand supporting his shoulder. Her breathing was light, but her gaze remained fixed on the end of the passage.
"He's coming out," Chen Wuya said.
The moment the words left his mouth, the passage shook violently. A figure was flung out and crashed heavily onto the bluestone road. The man rolled several times, his cloak torn and his mask split in two, revealing a pale, twisted face.
It was the Demonic Cult Leader.
He lay sprawled on the ground, trying to push himself up, but his arms went weak and he collapsed again. He lowered his head to look at his hands. The black aura around his nails was fading, and the blood-red pattern running beneath his skin, piercing through his entire body, was gradually growing dim.
"My power... is gone?" His voice trembled.
The street had been quiet, but in the next instant, an old farmer threw down his shoulder pole and pointed at the man on the ground. "Demonic Cult! He's from the Demonic Cult!"
Doors flew open one after another. Men grabbed hoes and iron pitchforks, while women pulled their children beneath the eaves. The crowd closed in, footsteps striking the stone pavement as they pressed forward like an incoming tide.
Bai Zhi stepped half a pace forward, shielding Chen Wuya behind her. "They won't listen to anything you say," she murmured.
Chen Wuya did not move. He closed his eyes. His sea