You could always trust Nirgalia, the Dark Moon Pope.
When the Witch said she didn't need help, Fu Qian didn't insist.
The changes that followed seemed to prove that trust had been well placed.
Besides having a clear objective, the Witch had clearly made a thorough assessment of the danger. She had never expected to achieve it easily.
The moonlight now blazing everywhere was undoubtedly the ultimate amplification of the method she had just used.
That rust-colored killing intent had been suppressed to the absolute limit in an instant.
But don't forget what had been said earlier about how the Witch managed it—by merging with the moonlight from the corridor and allowing her authority to seep into it.
On one hand, this was an exceptionally flexible response, easily limiting the attacks coming from everywhere.
On the other, it meant that the Witch was effectively drawing close to the Nightmare Corridor of her own accord. To put it simply, she was making sure it could seep into her as quickly as possible.
There was no doubt this was an extremely dangerous move, the very definition of dancing on the blade's edge.
And now, that risk had increased more than twofold.
Fu Qian believed that the prisoners behind the scenes were receiving not only the Dark Moon's icy power, but also her resolve to waste no time negotiating with them.
If they wanted to continue, they might have to steel themselves for what was coming.
And even if they didn't, they might not get to choose—
After the moonlight had spread through the entire corridor, the Witch's movements still weren't finished.
It was as if all the moonlight shone only upon her, and yet as if she herself were the moonlight.
Surrounded by countless rusted, twisted weapons, she extended a crystalline hand,