As soon as Granny Bizhu died, her glazed water jar fell out of control and plummeted down, only to be caught by Jiang Wang, who then held onto the five-colored fish.
It slammed directly onto her body, which was no longer recognizable as human.
The five-colored fish, now without an owner and trapped beneath the jar, seemed perplexed, frantically scurrying about within the dry glazed jar.
The chaotic flow of spells from the dozens of torn inscription papers gradually dispersed.
The raging torrents at his feet also scattered under the rules of the Lost World, with no telling where they would flow to next.
The Lost World is deceptive. Both life and death here are enigmatic, and comings and goings are fraught with confusion.
For every life that arrives here, this world is cruel and merciless.
And there stood Jiang Wang, covered in blood, floating in the air with his hands hanging down, as drops of blood incessantly fell.
