The vast hall held only one person, and he was playing with mud. That could only be Kitaryu Shingen.
The scene instantly brought to Fang Cheng's mind a famous lyric etched into his DNA.
"Brrr, it's so cold~~ I'm playing with mud in the Northeast, I've got no home in Dalian~~~"
Kanzaki Rin and Wakamatsu Kazuki stared at Fang Cheng in bewilderment, clearly startled.
Fang Cheng hurriedly covered his mouth. Damn, he'd sung it out loud.
Kitaryu Shingen sat on the ground with his back to the three of them, his hands and sleeves smeared with yellow, sticky mud.
A mud figure lay finished in front of him, complete with a head, torso, and limbs. It still looked like a few cylinders stuck together, like a stick figure, but it only needed a few more details.
The sound of their footsteps was impossible to miss, and Fang Cheng had suddenly sung a line, which rang out strangely in the empty space. Kitaryu Shingen would have heard them unless he was deaf.
But he remained unmoved, wholly absorbed in the mud in his hands.
Wakamatsu Kazuki was so scared that he hid behind a pillar. Back on the surface, he'd dared to send the Countermeasure Department after Kitaryu Shingen.
But now that he was actually standing in front of him, he realized he wasn't nearly that brave.
Neither Fang Cheng nor Kanzaki Rin made a reckless move. Wakamatsu Kazuki had stressed repeatedly that Kitaryu Shingen was invincible in Shambhala.
They didn't quite believe it, but better safe than sorry.
Neither side spoke. An eerie silence settled over them.
"Wakamatsu."
Kitaryu Shingen suddenly spoke. His voice was deep and magnetic, every bit as captivating as Fang Cheng's.
"I've always trusted you, and I was prepared to hand the Truth Cult over to