Qian Fan's Mental Power collapsed like floodwaters bursting through a dam, and the world before his eyes abruptly warped into an oil painting thick with vivid colors.
The Black-Robed Man split into three wavering, overlapping images in his blurred vision. Each mouth opened and closed mechanically, yet the voice seemed to reach him from thousands of meters beneath the sea, carrying a heart-quaking hum. "... The Mental Power of an ant is, in the end, nothing more than an appetizer at the lips of the laws of the Dao..."
He staggered and dropped to one knee on the icy stone. His fingertips dug deep into its cracks from the excruciating pain, only for him to realize in horror that what seeped from them was not damp soil, but densely packed, uncanny runes as fine as hairs. Each rune resembled a greedy little mouth, frantically devouring what remained of his perception.
A strong taste of rust surged into his throat. The urge to retch nearly made him faint, while visions flashed uncontrollably before his eyes like a revolving lantern: Xu Yuan'er's enchanting smile beneath the Star Lantern, the instant Xu Menghan's blade mercilessly pierced his heart, and Zhang Xin's offhand remark as he tossed a copper coin: "I'll lend you a life on credit"...
These images shattered like fragile glass hurled violently to the ground, breaking into countless bizarre fragments before reassembling behind a hazy veil into the hideous, distorted outline of Ancient Ruins City.
He distinctly felt someone brutally tugging at his soul, as though tearing apart a tangled ball of hemp thread. Every strand that snapped brought pain that pierced his heart and bones.
"Living... is so exhausting..." he murmured unconsciously, his nostrils filled with the nauseating stench of blood. Ghost Douluo's agonized groans drifted faintly from the distance,