He committed those patterns firmly to memory, engraving them in his Sea of Thought as the darkness outside began to close in.
The strands of Lin Feng's hair snapped, one after another.
In the end, his entire head of hair burst into flames.
The percentage within his life seed began to disappear.
Evil Soil covered Lin Feng.
An enormous tree root appeared above his head.
Inside the Pagoda Tree, a corpse that had lain there for years was encased in resin.
The figure wore a loose robe and a mask. More importantly, they held a scepter forged from gold and brass, leaving their identity impossible to discern.
"Serpent Handler."
Many ancient myths portrayed gods and ancestors holding a snake in each hand.
Such descriptions did not necessarily mean that a priest held two actual snakes.
They might instead have held snake-shaped scepters.
There was also a Feathered Cap on his head.
Brilliantly colored feathers had been woven into a Feathered Cap.
The figure was clearly not tall, yet the moment they appeared there, Lin Feng sensed so many things at once.
Towering.
Majestic.
Withered.
Weak.
Disgusting.
Sacred.
So much contradictory information flooded a person's brain in an instant.
It would plunge them into a state of "swelling" and "nausea."
Fortunately, Lin Feng was a cultivator after all. After a brief stab of pain in his brain, he steadied his mind again.
Anyone else would have had their head explode!
Lin Feng did not know who that was, but he knew this thing was truly sinister.
It was not suppression through a difference in cultivation level.
It was another sensation, another kind of sinister power. This was not shamanic arts, but something even older than the shamanic arts of the Han dynasty.
It was a method Lin Feng had never seen