At this moment, the altar manifested, and the Secret Rite began to turn.
Green Fire surged like a tide. The giant eye opened, and the Gift of Stagnant Rot descended in an endless stream.
In that instant of deathly silence, Ji Jue seemed frozen, standing blankly in place.
Nearly petrified, unable to breathe.
Filthy Mire merely smiled disdainfully, brimming with mockery as he looked at him with utter amusement... quietly waiting for him to sink deeper into the mire, unable to free himself.
All one could say was that people sometimes had a taste for this kind of contrast.
When everyone had nothing to do, when life was too comfortable and their stomachs too full, they loved seeing a good family girl enter the entertainment industry or a prostitute reform. Countless masterpieces had been born from it.
Scenes that audiences loved in entertainment media became nightmares in reality—perhaps even more terrifying than death.
Now, Ji Jue finally understood why this guy had been granted such a name by Stagnant Rot.
He was disgusting to the absolute limit.
The bastard wanted to destroy not only his body but his heart as well. Win or lose, once he got stained by this, it would be like yellow mud falling into filthy trousers—like a saintess who had turned the tide in a war between righteousness and evil suddenly going "ohohoho" in front of everyone.
An Artisan succumbing to Sin Corruption and throwing himself into Deepdark—what a delightful sound!
If Ji Jue lost, Filthy Mire would not even need to kill him. Deepdark would keep him forever, displaying him as a trophy and specimen, endlessly humiliating the Association and Embers. Even if he died, they could still turn him into a specimen and hang him before Deepdark's gates.
But even if Ji Jue won,