Then, in a low and solemn incantation, Jialan's words flowed slowly from her lips.
Countless golden Sanskrit characters surged out from the beads and, in the blink of an eye, formed a golden array which firmly trapped Wei Zhong within.
Amid the humming of the Sanskrit chant, Wei Zhong felt a heaviness in his head as if it were brimming with lead; the pale yellow talisman on his forehead trembled slightly before it cracked and broke with a "snap."
"Ah!"
The sea of Wei Zhong's consciousness suddenly sank deep, and the illusions he had been desperately suppressing burst forth. In an instant, he felt as if he had plunged into a nightmare, where his vision was filled with various images of Jialan, some deep in thought, some frowning in anger, and others smiling radiantly.
