Five minutes ago, an explosive sound enveloped the entire Seven Cities.
The lighthouse's flash suddenly extinguished.
Boom——
Darkness, like a volcanic eruption, gushed from a fishing boat adrift on the waves.
In the midst of shrill screams, everyone on the boat rapidly withered, as if some invisible monster had devoured their life and blood...
Amidst countless dry bones was a small white porcelain box.
An urn.
At the moment when the guardian, following Ling Liu's instructions, opened it, everyone on the entire boat paid with their lives for his action.
Yet the malice and venom erupting from the urn were still endless, continuously surging, ascending to the sky. It was like writhing snakes, coiling around the lighthouse, infiltrating inward, spreading, taking root, and never to be dispelled.
