At that moment, Wen Zhongyan remained utterly unaware of the approaching danger.
His cultivation had been sealed, leaving him no different from an ordinary mortal.
The shadow behind him looked at Wen Zhongyan, a trace of conflicting emotion in his eyes, but resolve quickly replaced it.
He took out a three-foot length of white silk, then abruptly looped it around Wen Zhongyan's neck.
The white silk snapped taut!
Wen Zhongyan's pupils contracted sharply. Irresistible force and suffocation gripped his throat. He tried to shout, but the silk strangled him so tightly that only hoarse, rasping sounds escaped.
His hands instinctively clawed at the silk around his neck. His feet kicked frantically, his body twisting and struggling.
But the shadow's hands did not budge.
Wen Zhongyan's face rapidly turned from red to purple, his eyes bulging. His head tilted back, and from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the shadow's face.
All at once, Wen Zhongyan forgot to struggle.
"You... it's you. Wh... why?"
The shadow's voice was hoarse, his tone indifferent. "Don't blame me. I'm only following orders."
"You!"
The shadow gave him no chance to speak again. He tightened his grip, veins rising like coiled dragons on his hands from the force he exerted.
The struggles grew weaker and weaker. At last, Wen Zhongyan's hands fell limply, and his body stopped twitching.
In his final moments of consciousness—
The shadow spoke again. "In truth, I never betrayed anyone."
At those words, Wen Zhongyan seemed to suddenly understand something. His eyes filled with disbelief.
The shadow kept strangling him for a full half an incense stick's time. Only after confirming that Wen Zhongyan had breathed his last did he slowly release his hands.
Wen Zhongyan's corpse slumped onto the bed, his face blue-purple and his eyes wide