Zhan Yun's voice was cold as ice. She abruptly raised her arm and pointed at a gigantic Ancient Demon Corpse hanging beneath a nearby cliff. It stood ten zhang tall and was covered in thick bone spikes.
"Look over there!"
Everyone's eyes immediately snapped toward it.
The enormous corpse should have been completely dried out and stiff. Its fingers, covered in a black, horny layer and shaped like giant warhammers, twitched ever so slightly in the silence—so faintly that it was almost impossible to catch with the naked eye!
Its hollow eye sockets remained lifeless, but that tiny movement had the sluggish feel of rigid life being forcibly awakened, like gears rusted for ten thousand years suddenly cranked by an invisible hand.
"It... it moved?!"
A disciple from an allied faction cried out in a shrill voice, unable to suppress his panic.
"And those Spatial Rifts!"
Jiang Shu's gaze flashed as he swept his eyes over the floating, shifting fissures in the air, black as centipedes.
These fissures should have been irregular, perilous traps, pure natural disasters.
Yet now, the edges of two or three rifts nearest to them began to writhe and stretch slowly like worms, in a manner that made their skin crawl.
They crept toward one another, seeming to merge—or perhaps searching for the best angle from which to strike.
Deep within the pitch-black rifts, the light of the spatial turbulence flickered. It was no longer random; it looked more like the glint of cold eyes!
"It's not just this world. Those images, too!"
"They're all giving birth to faint consciousness. Their behavior is changing from the primitive, sluggish, deranged chaos they started with, gradually taking on patterns—even rudimentary signs of cooperation."
Zhan Feng felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet to the crown