Wu Ling came under suspicion, but the most nervous person wasn't her. It was the old man from the Wu family.
The old man looked as if he were about to faint. He stared at Wu Ling in disbelief.
Wu Ling, however, remained calm. "It's my first time using it, but in theory, there shouldn't be any problems."
The others weren't convinced just because Wu Ling said so.
The man in the robe gritted his teeth, seeming to want to say something. His face flushed red, but in the end, he said nothing.
The Taoist said, "In that case, let's consider some other options."
The three of them excluded Wu Ling and didn't bring Ye Qing into the discussion either. They simply began talking among themselves.
The old man from the Wu family pressed a hand to his chest and pointed at Wu Ling.
Wu Ling said nothing. She simply focused on finishing the remaining parts of the formation.
Ye Qing stood at the edge of the formation, watching.
A few minutes later, something shot across the sky in an arc. With a thump, it hit the ground.
The object rolled twice before coming to a stop.
It was a smooth, bald head with no hair, nose, or ears. The entire head looked like a round, flesh-colored ball. Only its eyes were still clearly defined, with distinct whites and pupils.
Its nose and ears hadn't been cut off. They had unnaturally sunk into its head, fitting seamlessly against it, as if it had been born deformed.
And yet, just over ten minutes ago, it had been the head of a dignified-looking monk.
As soon as everyone got a good look at the head, another whoosh came from the sky. This time, another head came flying down, but its skin had