A thunderclap rose from nowhere, without a drop of rain—an extraordinary sign.
That single peal of thunder made both Jiang Zhizhou's and Bu Er's expressions change.
Weren't they underground?
Where had the thunder come from?
The two looked up overhead, but saw only pitch-black darkness and nothing else.
That, too, was strange.
When they entered the Underground City, they knew they were beneath the earth, yet the city had light of its own. Where that light came from, however, no one could say.
Even Yin Xian, who knew a great deal about Four Directions City, could not explain it.
Jiang Zhizhou and Bu Er collected themselves and turned their attention back to the bloodstained gravestone.
Their blood had already mingled with Yin Xian's, causing fine cracks to appear in the stone.
And precisely because those cracks had appeared, the coffin, now more than halfway aboveground, stopped shaking.
The pitch-black coffin stood motionless in the clearing, sinister and suffused with an aura of death.
Thunder sounded overhead again. This time, there was even lightning.
The flashes flickered directly above the coffin, as though the next bolt would strike it head-on.
The cracks in the gravestone grew increasingly distinct.
The prolonged loss of blood had left Jiang Zhizhou and Bu Er looking rather pale, but they still kept their bleeding palms pressed firmly against the gravestone.
At last, the gravestone shattered completely and crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.
As the gravestone broke apart, the coffin suddenly sank into the pit with a dull thud.
Jiang Zhizhou and Bu Er leaned over to look, only to find no trace of the coffin in the pit.
There was nothing but a thick layer of wood chips.
Presumably, the coffin had disintegrated into fragments.
Once the coffin had shattered, the