The Giant Who Was Nailed to Death

Both Long Shaoqian and Gu Ziyu broke out in a cold sweat at Ning Wangshu's words.

If Ning Wangshu was right, and this stone door was a crucial part of the formation, then the archaeological team had damaged the formation when they opened it. Wouldn't the Crimson Mist inside have spilled out?

This was a university, with tens of thousands of students. If the Crimson Mist escaped, who knew how many students would suffer? That would be a catastrophe.

Ning Wangshu had clearly noticed their lingering fear, but he didn't pursue the subject. Instead, he said, "Come on. Let's go inside and take a look."

"Okay!"

Gu Ziyu and Long Shaoqian hurriedly answered and stepped through the stone door.

They hadn't gone far before Ning Wangshu saw wisps of strangely colored Crimson Mist drifting ahead.

"General Ning, that's the mist..."

Long Shaoqian immediately pointed to the Crimson Mist in front of them.

But as Ning Wangshu stared at it, he couldn't help frowning. His expression turned grave, and a trace of surprise showed in his eyes.

Gu Ziyu seemed to notice something was off and couldn't help asking, "General Ning, what's wrong?"

Ning Wangshu came back to himself, glanced at Gu Ziyu, and drew a deep breath. "The aura of this Crimson Mist... feels strangely familiar to me."

"It isn't exactly the same, but its aura is quite similar to that of a strange, mysterious smear of blood I once saw."

The moment he saw the Crimson Mist and sensed its uncanny aura, Ning Wangshu thought of the smear of blood he had encountered in a ruined palace on the Ancient battlefield deep in the Kunlun Mountains, a place that had existed for who knew how many years.

The aura emitted by the Crimson Mist before them really was quite