Just gazing at those huge, crookedly stacked portraits piled by the wall, Jiu'er felt an odd chill slowly rising from her spine.
Her consciousness seemed to drown in water, making it hard to breathe. The air around her grew hotter and hotter... as if she was being simmered by something.
Under the strong unease, all her bones creaked and groaned. Like iron bars attracted to a magnet, wanting to burst forth and throw themselves into those massive oil paintings.
"...Hungry..."
"I think..."
"Definitely... Stop..."
"...Escape... Now..."
In the scorching air, Jiu'er heard fragmented whispers.
It was as if many people were talking quietly to her at the same time, and as a result, she couldn't hear anything clearly.
"—How is it?"
Amos's clear voice rang out from behind Jiu'er.
The moment she heard his voice, Jiu'er instantly snapped out of the illusion.
In that brief moment of illusion, she noticed that her erosion degree had silently increased by 3%.
