In a small courtyard on the outskirts of Fog City, Lin Feng took off his helmet. The first thing he saw was the Wood Guest "curing" across from him.
Dead. Game over.
There was a huge hole in the Wood Guest's head. Lin Feng had packed some medicinal herbs into it, but mostly, he had filled it with countless Incantation Scripts.
A delicate fragrance already wafted from the Wood Guest.
It was refreshing to the soul.
Like an oversized aroma diffuser.
Under these circumstances, more people worshipping him would only improve his quality. Unless it was some grand ceremony like a citywide or nationwide sacrifice, other people worshipping the Wood Guest would never produce another "spirit" within his body.
As far as Lin Feng was concerned, the Wood Guest smelled pretty good. Making Ritual Incense was a craft, and without question, as the purchaser, cook, and consumer all rolled into one, Lin Feng would never take his anger out on the cook for making bad food. He gave his own craftsmanship his wholehearted approval.
So certain steps could be skipped.
He set an alarm for eight hours.
Then he began to reflect.
Having the two of them run away had indeed been a terrible idea.
They had died before even figuring out who their enemy was, earning themselves an eight-hour cooldown.
Lin Feng still felt a little dazed. This death had hit hard. It was his first experience of suffocating.
The pain of his lungs feeling as though they would burst was something he would not soon forget.
Lin Feng checked the time. Not much time had passed between putting on his helmet and dying.
Only about ten minutes.
Lin Feng settled into his beanbag chair and emptied his mind.
This time, he had died from an unknown Curse.
At