It was a gloomy green, yet scorching hot. The raindrop seemed as thick as molten lava, but once it hit the ground, it rippled like smoke.
Fu Qian had just said there was no response, and then one appeared. For a moment, he was deeply grateful for the audience's enthusiasm.
He had to admit, the disturbance that followed easily brought to mind the door that had been broken earlier.
The same color, the same restless energy. Daimol had seemed so unassuming, but it turned out he was the brooding, repressed type.
That was right. Who else could have caused this commotion? It could only be Daimol, who had been swiftly cut off.
And although all the prisoners' powers seemed somewhat sinister, Daimol's stood out the most.
The fiery rain didn't just spray in every direction the instant it hit the ground. It even kept letting out "screams."
Pain, hatred, chaos... It seemed every negative word could describe it.
That moment, the disturbance alone seemed capable of causing mental pollution.
And it was still spreading.
Since it was rain, how could there be only one drop?
He could see clearly that the chapel, despite having a roof, offered no protection at all.
As if falling from another dimension, the smoldering raindrops appeared out of nowhere, covering every corner of the chapel evenly—not even sparing the stone statue of the First Generation Dark Moon.
This was nothing like ordinary rain washing over a surface. The drops shattered against it and instantly became kindling, leaving scorch marks behind.
Even the stone caught fire. The holes left by the raindrops grew from tiny pits, spreading ever wider.
And the statue was holding up relatively well. The rest of the chapel was even worse.
Fu Qian watched as a hole appeared in the flagstones beneath