In the dimly lit street, a small cluster of candlelight exuding a sinister aura floated towards him, held above someone's head from afar, moving steadily closer.
The candlelight swayed uncertainly under the cool night breeze, as if it would extinguish at any moment, yet for some reason, each time it seemed about to go out, the flame stubbornly reignited.
Zong Shan was walking alone at the moment, with the road in front of him seeming to stretch endlessly into the dark depths ahead.
And with the Ghost Candle held above his head, he was rapidly distancing himself from the massive and bustling city behind him.
But his mood right now was far from good.
After walking just a short while, Zong Shan's entire body was drenched in cold sweat; because of excessive tension, his body had started to disobey him and seemed somewhat stiff.
This situation arose because he was bearing an unimaginable pressure.
