At the bottom level of the Dali Temple's prison, the atmosphere was stagnant with chilling energy and the foul air was overwhelming.
At the easternmost cell of this level, the prisoner kept here, Li Hongjing, felt a chill down his spine as he witnessed the wall behind his room suddenly start to crumble. The red stones, once filled with talismans and coated with cinnabar, were now scattered all over the floor.
Then, a whitish chilling aura emerged from the layers of stone. After a loud 'boom', what finally appeared before him was a strange creature with a vague and elusive appearance.
It was very tall, a full four zhang high — an existence seemingly pieced together from countless corpses. Its hands were composed of countless human hands; its two eyes were made from hundreds of human eyeballs; its hair was like human fingers, yet not quite; the skin had obvious signs of patchwork.
