In a certain high palace tower that reached around two hundred kilometers in the skies, a bald man with white robes was inside the tower, cultivating on top of a lotus cushion that seemed to have a great beneficial effect on one's soul. He had his brows frowning most of the time.
Abruptly, his body shook, causing blood to leak from his dried-up lips.
'Damn it...! How powerful is that deathly attack from that damned wolf!? I can't get rid of it at this rate as it's impaled to my soul, trying to devour it slowly...! Is this the deadly nature of Death Laws!?'
He couldn't help but wonder the same thing again and again as if he went retard, but in truth, he never found a soul attack so tenacious and irremovable in his life. He had tried about four kinds of remedies already but failed to erase this death energy with every single one of them that he was already beginning to think of sealing its efficiency rather than removing it.
