Presently, Ye Futian remained seated quietly. He was handsome with an extraordinary aura. His long fingers danced over the chords of the guqin. The frightful scene in the sky had no effect on his performance. Right now, he was serious and focused. Even if a mountain collapsed in front of his very eyes, he wouldn't blink an eye. Unaffected, he would continue to play.
At this moment, the people seemed to have been brought into a mystical artistic conception. Secretly, they began to sympathize Ye Futian, as if they were worried he would be swallowed by the torrent, seizing to exist.
Above Ye Futian's head, the strange sight grew increasingly terrifying. The matrix that continuously swallowed Spiritual Qi was like a ruthless beast, killing everything in sight.
