"Don't move yet. Let me study this," Lin Yi said, staring at the array patterns on the ground.
"Oh, okay." Ye Xing answered at once.
Before long, Lin Yi was absorbed in deciphering and tracing the array.
His Spirit Eyes swept over every pattern. His Super Brain raced, breaking down their structures, analyzing them, and imprinting them in his mind. His fingers traced the air above the ground, following the patterns as he worked through them bit by bit.
While Lin Yi was engrossed in the array, Ye Xing suddenly spoke.
"Big brother, doesn't something seem wrong with that coffin?"
"How could it? As long as we don't disturb the array patterns, it won't move." Lin Yi looked up, exasperated, and turned toward the coffin Ye Xing was pointing at, the one in the Qian position of the Eight Trigrams.
To his surprise, spiritual energy really was slowly gathering inside it.
Spiritual energy streamed in from every direction, as though drawn by something, and slipped thread by thread through the gaps in the coffin lid.
Lin Yi looked inside with his Spirit Eyes and found that the desiccated corpse was slowly absorbing the spiritual energy.
Its withered body was like a dead tree drinking in rain after a long drought, greedily devouring every wisp.
We didn't disturb the array patterns. How could the corpse be changing? Lin Yi couldn't make sense of it, but he hurried to cut off the flow of spiritual energy.
He sent out a burst of spiritual power, trying to sever the path feeding it.
But it was already too late.
The corpse snapped open its shriveled eyes. Two points of ghostly light flared in its sockets, and it burst straight out of the coffin.
The lid flew off, flipped twice in midair, and crashed to