Chen Wuya's chest suddenly grew hot, as if something were flowing beneath his skin. He looked down to see that the silver pattern in his palm had vanished, replaced by a golden mark stretching from his wrist to his chest, rising and falling faintly with his breaths.
Bai Zhi stood just behind and to his side, one hand still resting on her sword hilt. She stared at the white-robed phantom in the air, her voice lowered. "You still haven't made it clear. What exactly does the Blood Moon mean?"
The Scroll Spirit did not answer her. It raised a hand and pointed at the stone chamber's vaulted ceiling. The star map that had just faded emerged once more, its stars slowly turning before finally converging into three words:
"Three months later."
Immediately afterward, a dark red star slowly rose and hung high in the sky. Unlike the other stars, its radiance was not cold and clear, but carried a viscous texture, like drops of blood falling.
Mo Feng crouched on the ground, his mechanism brush racing across the paper. He recorded as he muttered, "This isn't an ordinary celestial sign... it's a countdown."
Chen Wuya closed his eyes and activated his newly formed False Discernment ability. Rather than looking at the star map itself, he sensed the energy fluctuations carrying the prophecy. The information was like layers upon layers of shells—the outermost layer was imagery, the middle layer sound, and at the very core was an indescribable sensation—like the earth was gasping for breath, and like countless people were wailing at once.
He switched to Misalignment Frequency, disrupting the rhythm of those fluctuations. The once-complete prophecy began to fracture, and fragmented images suddenly surged into his mind.
He saw a mountain gate collapse, blue banners set ablaze. A black-robed figure