The blood shadow grew larger, carrying distorted air and swirling currents, and slammed directly into Lance's eyes.
Yet this scene seemed to go unnoticed by the others, who continued to chat and admire the antiques.
Only one person stood rigidly in place, his eyes empty, his fingers trembling slightly. Lance seemed to be trapped in a terrifying illusion, his senses automatically blocking out the surrounding noise, turning him into a puppet. After about ten seconds, he suddenly grunted.
His face went pale, and his legs almost gave way.
Lance wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, breathing heavily, casting a somewhat fearful glance at the two figures in the distance. As a core disciple of Soul-Losing Swordmanship, his experiences were vast. That strong aura and Qi that could trap someone in an illusion with one glance.
