The bony armrests of the White Bone Dragon Throne had already fused with the Old Emperor's withered arms. Its dragonbone backrest encased his spine from behind, and the bone patterns on its legs extended along the floor beneath the tiles of the entire hall.
The Old Emperor's face was still the same face: shriveled, sallow, with deeply sunken eyes.
But his eyes were no longer human eyes.
Slit pupils. Gray-gold slit pupils, exactly like the pair Fang Mo had seen through Wumian earlier.
All the gray-gold mist filling the hall poured from the Dragon Throne, contracting and expanding rhythmically like breathing.
Fang Mo stood at the bronze doorway, meeting those slit pupils from thirty zhang away.
"Nian Nu'er, how much has fused?"
"About forty percent. All the coffin fragments have embedded themselves in the Dragon Throne and his body. The fusion of their bones is complete, but their souls are still fusing."
Fang Mo took two steps into the hall.
The Prison Suppressor Patterns beneath his feet touched the law formations of Old God script beneath the floor tiles, and the two sets of laws threw off a string of sparks where they met.
The Old Emperor's slit pupils moved the instant Fang Mo entered the hall.
Those gray-gold eyes slowly turned and fixed on Fang Mo.
"You've come."
The voice came from the Old Emperor's mouth, but its tone was not his. It was deeper, more ancient, carrying a hollowness that spanned endless ages.
Fang Mo pushed the hilt of the God Slaying Saber up an inch.
"Who's speaking, you or it?"
A crack opened at the corner of the Old Emperor's mouth. It was not a smile, but a fissure in his skin caused by the fusion.
"Both are I."
Fang Mo tilted his head.
"That saves me