The tombstone appeared.
As it sank, yellow mud began surging out of thin air throughout the surrounding void.
The yellow mud was fresh, carrying a faint earthy smell. It quickly piled up before the Dressing Table, forming a Grave Mound. The tombstone then pressed down atop the Grave Mound, burying the entire tomb and the Dressing Table.
"What terrifying soil."
Jiang Qiao's left hand was wrapped in Silk Thread representing the cutting rule, while his right hand held scissors symbolizing the Fate Weaver.
His gaze shifted.
He sensed the suffocating feeling coming from the yellow mud.
Buried alive!
Even though he was not the target,
he still felt the oppression and despair of being buried alive.
Stifling.
Uncomfortable.
Unable to breathe.
Even before the strange power within him, there was a laborious feeling of being suppressed and unable to raise his head.
Taboo Weapon!
The palace's original, thunderous might.
Its vast, surging aura.
At this moment, it had withdrawn.
But this withdrawal did not weaken it in the slightest.
On the contrary,
it had become even more terrifying!
The Vicious Ghosts imprisoned inside the prison, the vicious Evil Spirits that had survived through who knew how many years, now seemed like mice that had encountered a wildcat. They all hid in the corners of their cells, trembling and afraid to make the slightest sound.
Instinct told them:
Death...
was close at hand!
If even the uninvolved bystanders were like this, then the danger and pressure faced by the Dressing Table at the very center, the true target of Yang Ling's suppression, could easily be imagined.
Yet,
facing the manifested tombstone and the yellow mud churning into a tomb,
it did not move at all.
The tomb was piling up, and the tombstone was descending, but neither had any substantive collision