On the Light Screen, the spatial rift was still there.
It simply hung there.
Like a half-open eye, coldly watching this world.
Yang Yong stared at the rift, his chest feeling as though someone had stuffed a lump of iron into it.
That Old Taoist had left.
Jiang Chen had left too.
He had even...
Jiang Chen would rather take a detour through the Eerie World.
He would rather force his way through that place that devoured people whole, just to leave.
Why?
His fingers clenched unconsciously, his nails digging into his palms.
The Second-Generation Zombies, sustaining that web with what little blood they had left, beings trading their lives to maintain it...
Those scenes kept turning over in his mind.
Wanted to touch the web?
Wanted to leave?
The price lay right there, bloody and raw.
Without absolute strength, he shouldn't even touch it.
But there was another question that sent an even deeper chill down his spine.
Weren't the Four Spirits supposed to be guardian beasts?
How had they instead become locks sealing them in here?
Who exactly was lying?
What was the real cage?
He couldn't figure it out.
Here, his meager common sense couldn't even pierce a sheet of paper.
"Look!"
A startled cry rang out.
Yang Yong jerked his head up, his pupils contracting sharply.
On the Light Screen, the spatial rift was changing color.
A surge of blood-red color welled out from deep within the rift.
It was as thick as a hundred crushed human hearts, staining it layer by layer until the entire rift became a bloody scar.
Then came the shadows.
One. Two. Ten. A hundred.
Blood-red figures rushed over from the other side, moving unnaturally fast.
Like raindrops played in reverse, springing from the ground back into the sky.
They passed