Wei Yan's brows furrowed into a knot before he knew it. Ling Zhao's condition was far too strange. This wasn't how a survivor who had narrowly escaped death should look. He seemed more like someone who... had seen a ghost.
"Ling Zhao, calm down," Wei Yan said sharply. "Come with me."
He waved for the others to disperse, then personally grabbed Ling Zhao by the arm. The touch was hard as iron, yet cold, without the slightest trace of a living person's warmth.
Ling Zhao obediently let himself be led away, his steps unsteady.
"The map... was wrong," he blurted out suddenly.
Wei Yan stopped.
"What map?"
"Our map." Ling Zhao laughed vacantly. "The canyon we thought we saw wasn't a canyon at all. It was a pocket... a pocket with its mouth wide open... just waiting for us to crawl inside. Hahaha!"
As he spoke, he pointed at his own head with his other hand.
"The map in here is wrong, too. It's all wrong."
Wei Yan's pupils narrowed slightly. He pulled Ling Zhao along at a faster pace, taking him out of everyone's sight and straight to a quiet room deep inside the Demon Suppressing Division, one reserved for interrogations and isolation.
He shut the heavy iron door, cutting off everything outside.
Inside the quiet room were only a stone table and two stone stools.
Wei Yan pressed Ling Zhao down onto one stool, then stood opposite him, looking down at him appraisingly.
"There's no one else here now," Wei Yan said in a low voice. "Explain yourself. What do you mean, the map was wrong?"
Ling Zhao raised his head and met Wei Yan's gaze with hollow eyes.
Out of Wei Yan's sight, his heart was cold and clear.
If you were going to act, you had