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Whoosh—!
An abnormal power of immense strength erupted within him, and Wang Yuan was swept onto the rooftop like a gust of wind.
As soon as he discerned the scene on the road in front of the door, his pupils instantly shrank violently.
"This is... weird!"
In the night, shrouded by a faint bloodlight that touched everything, a line of exactly seven people stood in a row.
They were walking down the main village road toward Beimang Mountain, dancing as they went.
Stomping feet, twisting hips, clapping hands, turning left, turning right, moving forward a step...
They resembled puppets on strings, bound together by the same cord, their movements uniform as if part of a single entity.
Even the stiff expressions on their faces were identically grim smiles, and the angle of the curl in their lips was exactly alike.
A originally solemn sacrificial dance, combined with these rigid expressions and movements, suddenly filled the atmosphere with an intense sense of eeriness.
