His fists clenched with a crackle, his bones grinding under the strain.
If that projection had not merely been an image of the past, he would have charged forward long ago and torn that old ghost to pieces.
Yan Hui's reaction was even more intense.
As he stared at the projection in the void, it was as though he had returned to the snow mountain in the secret realm—to the moment Wang Xian's arrow had pierced his shoulder.
The humiliation of being toyed with and manipulated, the sudden agony and fury, surged back over him like a tide and drowned him once more.
Pain!
Not merely the pain of the body, but the pain of having his dignity trampled upon, the pain of having his pride shattered!
He let out a furious roar, his voice brimming with brutality and killing intent. "Demoness! Come out! Fight me one-on-one!"
His voice echoed through the night sky, yet that mysterious voice—that entity calling herself the "Succubus"—did not respond.
At least, not for the moment.
Meanwhile, Ye Honglian had already collapsed helplessly to the ground.
Her magnificent wedding dress was stained with mud and blood—whether from the wounds she had suffered while being pursued earlier or from fresh injuries, no one knew.
She lowered her head, her disheveled hair concealing her face and making her expression impossible to see.
But her shoulders trembled faintly, whether from the cold, rage, or both.
Only she herself knew that all of this was the blind man's doing.
Wang Xian.
Ji Yaoguang and Yan Hui bore her no grudge; they would never have done something so insane.
Ji Yaoguang had never known her, and they might never even have met. What reason would she have had to record the scene of that old ghost Ku Chan devouring the