Sigh!
Wang Yang took a deep breath, his grip on the sword tightened, and a cold glint played along the blade as power surged within him unceasingly.
He didn't know what would appear next, but it was quite clear that this was somewhat different from what he had expected.
Inside the temple, the silence was terrifying, the darkness equally harrowing; it even gave the impression of being an abyss.
The simple setup—a peculiar statue of a deity, along with an intact altar, some black ash on the ground, and eight black pillars supporting the temple with walls covered in ghost charms drawn with black charcoal—filled Wang Yang with dread. The weirdness brought by the silence was the most terrifying aspect; however, Wang Yang understood that he was like a pawn crossing a river.
He had already reached a point of no return and Wang Yang even felt that if he were to step back, he might be decapitated.
