Silence fell over the area, as still as death.
Everyone stared at Chen Xing, his clothes splattered with blood.
He had once been a mighty-looking man dressed in fine robes.
Now, forced to kill his own son with his own hands, his face had turned ashen. In an instant, he seemed like a man on the verge of death.
"Chief Yuan, I'll take my people back now."
After a long while, Chen Xing slowly raised his head to look at Yuan Shan. His voice was hoarse and heavy.
"Mingda's body... I'll leave it here."
"All right."
Yuan Shan nodded, saying nothing more.
Chen Mingda had clearly been corrupted. As helpless as it was, there was no way they could let Chen Xing take the body away.
At least Chen Xing still knew where to draw the line.
After speaking, Chen Xing bent down again and looked at the headless corpse beside him, his eyes full of grief.
Just then, a sudden change occurred.
Amid a chorus of shouts, a slender strip of bloody flesh shot like lightning from Chen Mingda's swollen, severed neck.
In almost an instant, it wrapped around Chen Xing's neck.
"Father."
Chen Mingda's voice rang out again.
"You're just going to leave me here?"
Countless tiny tendrils rapidly sprouted from the surface of the strip of flesh coiled tightly around Chen Xing. They spread wildly in every direction, trying to burrow into his body.
Caught off guard, Chen Xing was bound from head to toe in an instant.
Yet he showed no panic, and didn't even struggle. He only stared fixedly at Chen Mingda's corpse, looking utterly bereft.
Hmm?
Yuan Shan, who was some distance away, was just about to intervene when she noticed something and stopped.
The next moment, a strange distortion appeared around Chen Xing.