Killing Each Other

Self-Destruction

Seventy zhang underground, the long, pitch-black corridor of the subterranean palace lay in utter silence. Only the faint footsteps of the seven men and the crackling of the surrounding torches could be heard.

The faint scent of blood in the passageway did not discomfort the seven demonic disciples. On the contrary, it made them feel as comfortable as if they had returned home.

Yet as they ventured deeper, an exceedingly faint, breeze-like whimpering began to seep through the air, appearing and vanishing. At first, no one noticed it.

Until—

One Wind Envoy suddenly halted.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something flash across the stone wall to his left.

Like a... twisted human silhouette.

But when the Wind Envoy whipped his head around, he found the wall smooth and empty. There was nothing there.

"What is it?" a companion beside him asked in a low voice.

"Nothing." He shook his head, assuming it had been an illusion. The seven continued onward, delving deeper into the underground palace.

But the ever-present whimpering seemed to have suddenly grown a little clearer.

Carrying an indescribable rhythm, it lightly teased at the nerve endings of the demonic disciples.

Suddenly, another Wind Envoy felt a chill sweep over the back of his neck, as though someone had blown against it.

The Wind Envoy spun around sharply, only to find the blurred faces of his companions behind him and the flickering torchlight dancing over the surrounding rock walls.

"What are you doing?" the Wind Envoy he was staring at frowned.

"Just now..." His voice was somewhat dry. "Someone blew on my neck."

"You're being paranoid!"

Yin Wuchuan, walking at the very front, suddenly gave a cold snort. His voice was not loud, yet it pierced their minds like ice awls,