"No!"
Asabanor shouted in rage as he floated in the blood-red air. Even though he rushed at them at full speed, he was one step too slow. Looking at the high priest's aged face, the rapidly-falling Xiao Lin showed him the middle finger, but he suddenly realized the Norman high priest might not understand the meaning of gesture. He did not have time to regret it, as his entire person was swallowed up by the darkness.
Xiao Lin's consciousness was extremely hazy, as if he was a newborn baby that only had a vague sense of the outside world. He felt like, in one moment, he was in a cold, damp and dark place; another moment, he was in a white, bright and warm place. His surroundings were constantly changing.
