Under the impact of the 'dead souls', that man was like a small boat in the middle of a storm. He couldn't stop shaking. Sweat ran down his thin face, turning the blood and dirt on his face into black water, dripping down his face.
altar of ... Dead ... Spirits ... I can't wake him up. Otherwise, if I can't get over it, I'll become ... The sacrifices will be buried on the altar, and their souls will be imprisoned here as slaves, never to be reincarnated."
When he said this, the despair in his eyes was so thick that it seemed to overflow.
When the other escapees heard his words, they lowered their heads even more, and a sense of sadness and despair spread. The 'dead souls' floating around seemed to feel this dejection and couldn't help but be affected, letting out even louder wails.
"Him?" Song qingxiao caught the key word in his words. who's 'he'? "
