「The next day.」
A light autumn rain was falling, and the sky was overcast.
A hundred miles outside Lancang County City, beneath a region ravaged by thunderbolts.
WHOOSH—
Wu Dao sat with his eyes closed atop a sea of black clouds, carefully nurturing his spirit. Blade-like gales tore past him, yet he remained completely still.
DONG—
DONG—
DONG—
Within the world of his Heart Lake.
An alarm bell would occasionally ring, sending ripples across his spiritual sea. A sense of immense crisis, growing with the quickening pace of the bell, was gradually taking over his mind.
It was like the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, or as if he were being watched by the Hell Death God.
The sword could fall at any moment.
The scythe could emerge from the darkness and press against his neck at any time.
That feeling of having one foot in the realm of the living and one foot in the realm of the dead was a constant, unsettling anxiety.
