Hei Qing's Dark Face

Inside the secret room, everything sank into a deathly silence, so still that even the air seemed to have frozen.

Zhu Li seemed to have turned into a stone statue, standing rigidly in place. Only his heavy, chaotic breathing—sometimes hurried, sometimes halted—and the violent rise and fall of his chest clearly showed what earth-shaking terror and intense impact his heart was currently undergoing, enough to reshape everything he had ever known in his life.

Because in this short span of time, the amount of information Lin Ming had spoken of was too vast. So vast that even with his willpower as a High-Tier Half Sage, he would need an extremely long time to slowly sort through it, digest it, and try to believe all of this mythlike truth.

At the same time, outside the secret room, time seemed to have been stretched by an invisible force. Every minute and every second felt especially torturous.

Hei Qing, whose burly figure was like an iron tower, had long since lost his usual composure. Like an irritable giant bear trapped in a cage, he paced back and forth through the cold stone corridor. His heavy footsteps landed on the blue stone slabs with muffled thuds of "dong, dong," echoing through the silent passage, crisp and audible.

His brows were furrowed tightly. His huge, bell-like eyes flicked from time to time toward the thick, tightly shut stone door engraved with isolation runes, his gaze filled with irrepressible anxiety, worry, and a trace of frustration at being shut out.

Lin Ming and Elder Zhu Li had been inside for far too long. What exactly were they talking about in there? How was that girl Zi Yan? Was she alive or dead? Why could he not hear even the slightest movement?

Countless times, he had wanted