The fire deep in the corridor had died down.
The room had disappeared.
The murals had disappeared.
The reliefs had disappeared.
The walls were smooth and even, with wisps of gold showing through. Jiang Qiao reached out and touched them. They were cold, with a metallic texture, but judging by their hardness, they were not gold.
"The corridor is a coffin."
"Then where is that so-called Sage corpse?"
"Where is it hidden?"
The thought had just flashed through Jiang Qiao's mind when he saw Wu Jia stop ahead. More than twenty meters in front of him, a figure had appeared out of nowhere.
It was an old man.
He was tall.
His back was slightly hunched.
His pale skin was covered in strange folds. They did not look like ordinary wrinkles, but more like tattoos in the form of some kind of relief.
"What is that?"
Wu Jia warily looked at the old man.
He gripped the flintlock gun.
Yet he did not dare to fire.
The old man... simply stood there, perfectly still, yet Wu Jia somehow felt as though the man stood behind layer upon layer of gloom and veils.
As if he existed, yet did not.
As if he was there, yet was not.
It was profound and bizarre, impossible to understand, and completely different from the evil creatures they had encountered before.
"Lord Hefu."
"Come out, quick."
"What is this? I feel that something is very wrong with it."
Wu Jia called out in a low voice.
"Of course you would feel that something is wrong, because He is an existence beyond your imagination."
Suddenly.
Another voice rang out in the corridor.
Standing behind him, Jiang Qiao clearly saw a viscous liquid seep from Wu Jia's back. The liquid was deeply sinister. The moment it appeared,