Era of Magic and Martial Arts

In the reflection of the mirror, the contours of the features gradually emerged, each line exuding an indescribable eeriness.

The eye sockets were sunken, making it impossible to discern what kind of monster it was, only vaguely seeing that there was not a hint of white in the eyes, only dead black, like two congealed eternal nights, devouring all hope and light.

Next, a tar-like black liquid continued to surge vertically, constantly spreading upward, like mucous from the abyss.

The black liquid gradually accumulated and rose, slowly sketching the straight lines of shoulders and long sleeves, finally coalescing into a pitch-black... suit?

The lines of the suit gradually became clear in the mirror, each stitch and thread seemed woven from darkness, exuding an evil yet enchanting elegance.

Luo Ji was stunned for a moment, almost suspecting his eyes were deceiving him.

His fingers trembled slightly, the mirror almost slipping from his palm.

However, the image was clearly reflected in the mirror, undeniable.

Then, he saw the suit silently swell, the fabric seeming to have a consciousness of its own, continuously wriggling, stretching, as if a person was being slowly molded inside the suit.

First came the broad shoulders, followed by the long torso, and finally the straight legs.

The entire process was eerily silent, without the "drip" of liquid flow, because it was merely a visual effect, essentially still a shadow.

And since its birth, the shadow had no sound.

This is an evil sacrifice, also science.

This is a monster, yet also human form!

Cuicui felt her throat dry as if scorched by fire, her whole being petrified.

She reached out tremblingly, her fingertips pointing straight at the bizarre silhouette slowly rising behind Zuo Bai, her voice carrying uncontrollable fear:

"Another... another monster! The fourth monster?!!"

One, then another, yet another, it never ends, does it? What’s the meaning, is the sewer the homeland of monsters?

Zhang Liyou stared fixatedly, an extreme sense of foreboding arising in her heart, her gaze moving from behind Zuo Bai to lock firmly on Feng Yuhuai.

Her heart sank with a thud.

She saw the overwhelming despair and fear originally on Feng Yuhuai’s face, at this moment, fade away like a retreating tide, replaced by something...

It was a complex emotion she had never seen before, unable to describe accurately with words.

In that emotion, there was less fear, more anger, and even a hint of seeing light... hope?

A thought suddenly bubbled up in Zhang Liyou’s mind:

"Feng Yuhuai seems to recognize the last emerging monster? Could this monster be..."

Her thoughts had not fully unfolded when the scene before her eyes confirmed her unease.

Only to see that humanoid monster emerged from the shadow, its palm suddenly twisted into a black and sharp dagger, with a cold glint on the blade.

The dagger, like a black lightning bolt, fiercely stabbed towards Zuo Bai’s back.

Its movements were unimaginably quick, almost making it impossible to see its trajectory, while the surrounding air produced not a hint of sound by the movement, as if this lethal strike came from a silent dimensional space.

All this seemed lengthy to tell, but from the emergence of that eerie smiling face in the shadow to the monster rising, condensing into a human shape, and then stabbing with the dagger, was only a fleeting moment.

Time seemed infinitely compressed in that moment, and a series of actions were completed.

And from Zuo Bai’s perspective, he was just standing in place, turning around again and again, his brain processing rapidly, trying to understand what was unscientific about all that was before him.

Yet before he could draw a conclusion, a blood-stained black dagger passed straight through his chest.

The blade was black as ink, yet covered in vivid red blood, which instantaneously stained his clothing red.

The blood dripped along the dagger’s tip, splashing into the sewage with ripples.

And until this moment, Zuo Bai hadn’t even heard a single sound, even when his chest was pierced by the black dagger, he heard not the sound of flesh being torn.

Everything was terrifyingly silent.

Zuo Bai’s pupils suddenly contracted, disbelief flashing in his gaze behind the spectacles.

He slowly lowered his head, his gaze falling straight on the black dagger protruding from his chest.

On the dagger’s tip, a piece of red flesh hung precariously.

With advanced scientific acumen and profound anatomical knowledge, Zuo Bai immediately identified the piece of flesh should belong to his left atrial valve.

Zuo Bai’s gaze slowly swept over the cold and sharp blade, like traversing layers of fog, finally landing on the rippling, blood-stained sewage beneath his feet.

At this moment, his face suddenly bloomed with an excited smile of solving a puzzle, appearing both mad and charming against the backdrop of blood.

"So that’s it, it emerged from the shadow under my feet!"

Zuo Bai took a step forward, pulling the chest along the black dagger forward, the gushing blood further dyeing his white clothes, resembling a blooming blood flower.

His movements were calm and composed, as if feeling no pain at all.

Simultaneously, he turned his head to look behind. This time, he didn’t turn his body, only his neck, so the shadow still stayed behind him.

And upon that elongated shadow, stood a person.

The person wore a pitch-black, well-fitted suit, tailored as if custom-made, a few playing cards tucked in the chest pocket, the patterns faintly visible.

A thin cloak draped over his back swayed gently in the wind, a cold face sporting gold-rimmed glasses, and the pupils behind the lenses were eerily black.

One hand naturally drooped, while the other hand strangely transformed into a black blade, with red blood still on the edge.

"So it’s you!"

Zuo Bai’s mouth subtly curled, with a hint of a playful smile, slowly extending his hand, gently wiping the blood from his chest.

At the instant his nails touched the blood, they quietly dissolved, transforming into a silvery liquid glistening faintly.

In the blink of an eye, the silvery liquid filled the open wound, sketching a tattoo identical to the one on Feng Yuhuai’s face.

The lock pattern of a god, able not only to lock the erosion of evil sacrifices, but also lock the spread of death.

Zuo Bai’s face bore no trace of anger from being ambushed, instead exuding an enormously joyful expression, as if the person behind him was a long-lost old friend.

Zuo Bai’s eyes narrowed slightly, beaming with a smile:

"Originally, my plan was to capture Feng Yuhuai and then lure you here. Little did I expect you would skip that step and appear directly, this truly is an unexpected delight!"

Zuo Bai paused slightly, speaking with a courteous and modest tone:

"So, should I address you as [Mask], or should I call you... Zheng Hang?"