394 Miscalculated

"Go to hell!"

Cult Leader Shi clawed fiercely at his abdomen with both hands, trying to tear that bizarre human head apart and crush it into pulp. Yet in that instant, his vision blurred, and the scenery around him gradually twisted, as though he had fallen into a dream.

When Shi Wanhai opened his eyes again, he found his hands covered in blood and gore, while a sharp pain wracked his belly. As for any human head, there was not even a shadow of one.

Only then did Shi Wanhai finally realize that he had suffered a cultivation deviation.

"I... suffered a cultivation deviation?"

"Th-this is impossible!"

"B-but when did it happen? When exactly did I suffer a cultivation deviation...?"

After regaining his senses, Shi Wanhai felt dizzy and muddled, his mouth dry and his tongue parched. Most bizarrely, his body seemed like smoke and cloud—at times faint, at times dense, utterly devoid of any solid sensation.

"Damn it!... My Dharmic power, my cultivation—I lost at least forty percent of it in one blow..."

His expression was extraordinarily grim, and he looked incomparably weak. His current state was dreadful beyond measure, his cultivation having plunged to rock bottom. If not for that, he would not have fallen into this state of dissipating like smoke and clouds.

"That's right."

A cold voice rang out. Shi Wanhai looked up and saw a phantom. It clearly bore He Ping's appearance, even sharing the same mannerisms, except an evil, demonic air lurked at the corners of its brows and eyes.

Shi Wanhai gathered qi into his eyes, and a beam of light shot from his Dharma eyes, sweeping across the phantom's body, capable of piercing through flesh and searching every inch of marrow, organs, and entrails.

Yet it would have been better had he