Demonic Eyes was not, strictly speaking, a living thing.
Because Shadow Play's earliest images did not show it being born from some mother body. They were hazy, fragmented scenes, skipping so severely that the continuity was almost nonexistent.
Qin He watched for quite a while without understanding what the images were actually showing.
The mist still obscured nearly everything, but he could vaguely make out that it had been created through some secret art. The process was extraordinarily bizarre and cruel, drawing upon the living souls and seven souls of an unknown number of beings.
The passage of time was even more unimaginably long. Every scene Shadow Play displayed spoke of seas turning into mulberry fields and rocks crumbling while oceans dried up.
When its eyes opened, there was a heavily guarded, incomparably gloomy hall.
When its eyes closed and opened again, only broken walls and ruins remained, overgrown with wild grass.
After countless years, it was moved to a boundless sea of blood.
When its eyes closed and opened again, the sea of blood had vanished without a trace, leaving only a parched wasteland of scorched earth and black desert.
This cycle repeated over and over. No one knew how many hands it passed through, nor how many places it had been taken.
Demonic Eyes was not alive, yet the years it had existed might have to be measured in epochs. Qin He even suspected that, so long as it was continuously refined through sacrifice, this thing might achieve immortality.
At last, the scenes of Demonic Eyes opening its eyes became slightly longer. It should have reached its final form by then.
Several powerful beings had wielded it in succession. Their auras differed, yet all were concealed by mist, their faces and forms impossible to see clearly.
Demonic Eyes