After a quarter of an hour, Ying Yunpeng finally woke up.
In the hall where Ying Yunpeng was having a banquet earlier, now was a wall that was cast by bronze in whole and embossed with vermiculate patterns of devils. From that hundred-zhang in the square wall, which was filled with portraits of unknown, hideous devils, five dazzling, blood-red rings had reached out, firmly locking Ying Yunpeng’s neck, shoulders, and thighs.
A strong suction had been released by this devil wall, just like a gigantic swirl, ceaselessly drawing the star power contained in Ying Yunpeng’s body out. His body was limp and powerless; he tried to struggle for a few times, but those blood-red rings stayed entirely unmoved. He growled out in both anger and fright, then despairingly banged his own head hard against that devil wall behind him a couple of times.
Dishi Yanluo sat on that armchair, which used to belong to Ying Yunpeng, looking down at Ying Yunpeng.
