"Does the falling of the leaves signal the pursuit of the wind, or the tree's reluctance to hold on?"
A lifeless puppet, seated like a monk on a meat cushion, stared blankly with hollow eye sockets at Zhao Zixuan, who was the closest.
The sound it emitted carried a chilling sense of desolation, causing shivers to run down one's spine.
"Instructor..."
Feeling fearful under its gaze, Zhao Zixuan instinctively stepped back twice, casting a plea for help towards Lan Tianbai not far away.
As she stepped back, the puppet slid forward the same distance, closely following her.
"Does the falling of the leaves signal the pursuit of the wind, or the tree's reluctance to hold on?"
Seeing that Zhao Zixuan did not respond, the puppet asked again with a hoarse voice.
During the second question, its eyes became even more hollow and black mists enveloped its body, exuding a somewhat eerie oppressive force.
