The elderly shaman maintained the posture of her upturned face as she scrutinized the center of the empty sky.
There was a sort of fluctuation at work there, invisible to ordinary people, the air quivered ever so slightly, like ripples moving beneath the surface of the water.
The posture of an evil spirit was originally imperceptible to the naked eye; what was incredible was that even she, with her exceptional spiritual perception as a top-level spirit medium, couldn't see the slightest sign of it.
But the elderly shaman could feel it, her intuition honed by countless trials and her keen consciousness allowed her to sketch the contour and trajectory of some object in the sky in her mind.
"Some sort of thread...? Or..."
She felt it was more akin to rain, a torrential downpour where rain threads connected the sky and the earth — it was like the kind of rain that would soak one through despite an umbrella or raincoat.
"Truly dangerous."
