The Sorrow of a Small Figure

Several eerie shadows of severed heads floated behind Chen Wang. At first they were somewhat blurry, but then faces gradually emerged—those same heads that had floated behind Jiang Ping earlier.

Their faces were deathly pale and twisted, their eyes fixed venomously on Chen Wang.

They seemed as though they wanted to pounce on him and devour his flesh and blood.

Chen Wang unleashed his vast Divine Sense against the force within Jiang Ping's consciousness. The force was deeply inauspicious; it actually seeped into Chen Wang along his Divine Sense, and his brows rose.

A Spirit Transformation Stage cultivator could use Divine Sense to communicate with heaven and earth, mobilizing the power of heaven and earth with boundless might.

Chen Wang's Divine Sense was like a vast ocean, yet Jiang Ping's soul was like a reef weathered by ten thousand years of wind and sun within that sea—unyielding and indestructible.

As more and more of that infiltrating force entered Chen Wang's Primordial Spirit, he could only break off the attempt.

The shadows behind him continued to stare at Chen Wang with utter malice.

Under the deep moonlight, the scene was exceedingly chilling.

Chen Wang turned around, his gaze sharp as he fixed it on those drifting heads.

"Showing off your axe before Lu Ban." Chen Wang struck down with one palm, ripples spreading outward.

Yet when the moonlight fell upon him, Chen Wang discovered that those heads were still within his shadow. Their expressions were venomous and sinister, as though they were cursing him.

"What is this?" Chen Wang was astonished.

Jiang Ping, meanwhile, appeared to be in extreme agony. Bloody tears streamed endlessly from his eyes as he forced himself to kneel and grabbed Chen Wang's trouser leg.

"Kill me. Please, kill me."

Chen Wang noticed the agony on Jiang