Everything in the ancient tomb shattered amid the howling yin energy, revealing its true appearance.
—A winding, secluded path; dilapidated, desolate houses; faded, blackened red paper pasted on wooden doors; withered grass roots by the walls; dried-up moss.
He was still in the village, still in his original position. The mountain crossings, the underground tunnels—everything before had merely been an illusion.
After breaking free of the illusion, Zhang Yuanqing abruptly turned his head and looked down the secluded path behind him. A thick, ink-like mass of yin energy was surging toward him from the end of the winding road.
It billowed layer upon layer, like thick smoke.
Directly before the rolling smoke was Little Doubi, wailing at the top of his lungs.
He paddled his limbs frantically as he cried and crawled, bursting forth with speed no infant his age should possess. The smoke-like yin energy chased close behind, ready at any moment to swallow the round, adorable Infant Spirit whole.
At that moment, he depended on his master more than ever, just as a child depended on his parents.
Zhang Yuanqing felt a bone-deep chill. Every nerve screamed, Run! Every muscle reflexively tensed, and adrenaline surged—not to support his body in battle, but to keep his legs from going weak while he fled for his life.
The charm had been broken. There was still time to run. Looking at Little Doubi, who was about to be swallowed by the "smoke," Zhang Yuanqing's face twitched violently.
The next moment, he charged toward Little Doubi—toward the tsunami-like yin energy—despite himself.
Only when he rushed toward that terrifying yin energy did he truly understand Little Doubi's Fear. The aura bearing down on him carried an irresistible force. Before it even reached him, it had already left him, a Night Wanderer, terrified out