Deep within the mysterious fog, all movements vanished.
Sishen also lost its "soul" as it slowly kneeled on the ground.
Everyone was so tense that they almost forgot to breathe.
"Is it over?"
"How did it turn out?"
"Did the Shaman... win?"
Everyone stared at the valley, unblinking.
The surroundings were so silent that a pin drop could be heard.
They waited quietly like this.
Unknown how much time passed, a fluctuation came from the thick fog, and amidst the turbulent mist, a figure emerged.
The figure was lean and thin, not tall.
But at this moment, in everyone's eyes, this solitary figure walking through the evil mist was terrifyingly powerful.
Soon, Holy Patterns appeared on the ground.
The evil mist retreated to both sides.
Mo Hua slowly walked out from the evil mist, his face pale, but his gaze calm, expression tranquil, and his robes not stained with a trace of dust.
