The ascetic's gentle expression vanished completely, replaced by the fury of one who had been profaned and an unquestionable authority. Pure white light began flickering in the depths of his pupils, and the air around them emitted a faint hum.
"You have no idea what you have refused!" His voice grew emphatic, as though more than one person were speaking. "You have refused salvation—grace!"
"I know." Wu Heng's tone remained calm. "What I refused was a shackle. I belong to humanity, nothing more."
"Utterly foolish!" The ascetic's soul aura changed. The presence that had gradually emerged and taken over his body snorted coldly.
In an instant, the café's clamor, light, and smells seemed to recede, distort, and vanish.
In their place was a boundless space shrouded in pale gray mist. There was no up or down, no left or right, no sense of time passing—only a cold, pure prison of spiritual power.
A mental prison? A battlefield of consciousness?
So, the dagger had finally been revealed. Wu Heng had known from the very beginning that the other party had never truly been sitting across from him. Every conversation and test had taken place on the spiritual plane, projected onto his mind.
And now, part of his consciousness had been forcibly dragged into this domain controlled by the other party.
Ahead of him, the ascetic's image began to change. His body gave off a gentle white radiance, while behind him unfurled a pair of faint, phantom wings formed from pure light energy.
A powerful pressure carrying the meaning of order and judgment filled the entire space.
"One last chance. Join us... or be purified?" The unknown angel's voice rang like a great bell, shaking even the gray space.
Wu Heng stood where he was, utterly unmoving.
He did not use any