For a moment, everything fell silent.
It was no ordinary silence, but the deathly stillness of a void stripped even of wind.
The air congealed. Every breath felt like swallowing sand.
The wound in Ye Honglian's left shoulder went deep to the bone. Black blood dripped from her fingertips, only to evaporate before it hit the ground, turning into foul-smelling smoke.
She seemed not to feel any pain at all, merely glaring at the shadow swelling in the distance, a hundred zhang away.
Unwilling to accept it.
Those three words could no longer describe the fire in her eyes.
It was an obsession with her prey, and a defense of her own dignity. In her eyes, Wang Xian was nothing but a latecomer who'd gotten lucky. What right did he have to take her prey?
But deep within her reason, a cold voice warned her: Something was wrong with this demonic bird.
In midair, the demonic bird's wings had already blotted out half the sky.
It was no ordinary black, but an empty blackness that devoured all light.
The runes on its wings began to writhe, like countless black maggots crawling beneath its skin. They linked head to tail, forming an enormous demonic net that covered a hundred zhang.
"This is... a demonic rune formation!"
Wuyue cried out in alarm in Wang Xian's ear. "These aren't natural demonic runes. Someone carved them onto it! This beast isn't a wild demonic bird. It was raised!"
Wang Xian's pupils contracted sharply.
He saw the runes glowing—not with the usual golden-red light, but with a sickly green, like phosphorescence that had rotted for a thousand years.
With every rune that lit up, the void caved in by an inch, and space groaned under the strain.
"Look out!"
Wuyue's warning had barely rung out