When Lu Wencheng picked up the corpse cone again with his purplish-black hand, the feeling Yang Xiao got changed entirely. His intuition told him that it wasn't a person using the magic artifact but a ghost. Almost instinctively, Yang Xiao slipped his hand into his chest and secretly pulled out the Human Bone Staff.
Lu Wencheng's eyes turned cold and indifferent, his face also took on an ominous hue. A few seconds later, his movements became stiff as he raised his left arm, zombie-like, without bending his wrist, and harshly stabbed the sharp end of the corpse cone into the wet mud in front of him.
After a moment, he pulled it out and switched to a different spot, continuing to stab.
Lu Wencheng kept repeating, beads of sweat the size of soybeans running down his neck, these seemingly effortless actions consuming a great deal of his spiritual power.
