Inside the attending physician's office, within the black box.
The voltage was unstable, making the lights overhead flicker on and off, but it did nothing to stop the person beneath them.
The Harbinger's stiff fingers pressed down with such force that the pen tip bent into an arc, a sight that made one's heart clench.
And line after line of text, practically indistinguishable from gibberish, poured forth without pause.
[Today is Day 61. Judgment will arrive in twenty minutes. 135 will return to zero.]
By the time the date had reached Day 61, the thirteenth Judgment Day.
What the Harbinger had written seemed to confirm it. This was even the least gibberish-like sentence on the entire page.
But that did not seem like a good thing either. An extreme threat had been laid bare before them, leaving no room to evade it.
135 would return to zero?
Ignoring the confusion and discomfort brought by those words, Fu Qian had practically committed everything from beginning to end—even the punctuation—to memory.
And in that line about Day 61, the most striking part was undoubtedly the ending.
Because 135 was the number that had evolved from 177 all the way through Day 60.
Yes, that was his Sanity Value.
He had previously remarked that the predecessors might not have been able to endure this, considering it had once dropped to nearly two digits.
If he had not just digested the Entwined Umbilical Cord, even his own reserves would have been tight.
But the facts proved that it made no difference how much remained. Once Judgment arrived, this value would directly drop to zero?
Wasn't that price a little too steep? So it was not this Demon Mountain being judged at all—it was him, this Man-Demon?
The Warehouse had led him astray!
At that