Wei Yanchi had always believed that his senior brothers at the Martial Arts Hall misunderstood him.
Because he really did not enjoy going berserk that much. Most of the time, he was extremely rational. He simply understood exactly how far he could go without dying, how to carry out his plans, and how to exploit the situation.
It was only because he was too calm, a calmness most people could never achieve, that they called him a madman.
Wei Yanchi felt he had suffered a great deal of misunderstanding, but fortunately, he was strong at his core and did not care.
The illusion continued to unfold. He saw the authorities intervene and the Military mobilize, modern military power clashing with the supernatural forces of the instance. The Martial Arts Hall naturally sided with the Real World, leaving the Instance Faction temporarily locked in a stalemate.
What unfolded before Wei Yanchi was a full-scale battle.
Pale figures rose from the rows of graves. They stood motionless, praying to the moon, looking eerie yet mysterious and solemn.
Silence surrounded them. All that could be heard was the heavy breathing of the people encircling the graves.
Wei Yanchi saw neither Mr. 39 nor anyone from the Martial Arts Hall. He scanned his surroundings. He stood at the center of the battlefield.
But this battlefield was different from the ones before.
This time, a single phrase filled everyone's mind.
Quiet. Quiet. Do not disturb them.
But in the next second-
The pale figures moved like phantoms, weaving through the people surrounding them. Every movement was light, like petals blown loose by the wind.
And the people they passed through died just as lightly. Life was even lighter than a petal.
Expressionless, Wei Yanchi seized the pale ghost drifting past him in the illusion by