Li Zhuiyuan: “The lamp’s out.”
No sooner had the words fallen than the amber glow that had enveloped everything began to burn away, dissolving into nothing with terrifying speed.
Zhao Luhai, who had only just finished repairing his body and stepped out of the dome, had time to take only one step.
He could not take another.
Not only could his body not move, even the foremost foot began to burn.
Zhao Luhai: “This… how is this possible?”
Far below, the Zhao clan ancestors—most of them missing limbs—saw the fires start upon themselves and fell into madness.
Some shouted, some roared, some wept… some knelt and kowtowed, not even sure whether they were praying to Heaven or begging their ancestors for mercy.
Everything here, even their very existence, had been founded upon the little flame planted on Zhao Wuyang’s skull.
When that flame went out, their long dream of immortality would end.
Zhao Luhai: “Why… how could this be?”
Even now Zhao Luhai could not comprehend.
Clearly he had been the one holding full initiative—so how could the situation suddenly flip, so fast there was no room left for a struggle?
Now the only thing he could do… was wait for death.