When the morning prayer bell pierced the stone walls of the dungeon, the execution squad arrived. Ye Feng let them place the Anti-Magic Collar around his neck. The moment the chilling obsidian pressed tight against his throat, he suddenly recalled that moonlit night—someone seemed to have touched his wound in much the same way.
The execution ground was set up in the Holy Flame Plaza, a place designated for burning heretics. As Ye Feng was dragged up the high platform by iron chains, the whispered gossip of the onlookers surged like a tidal wave:
"I heard the one he shielded was the Flowing Fire Witch..."
"Even the Lord Templar Knight has gone missing..."
"A demon like this ought to be..."
Ye Feng narrowed his eyes and gazed toward the east, where the morning star hung right above the cross on the Church spire. He suddenly felt a strong urge to laugh; these devout believers would never know that the holy communion bread they received every day was mixed with his improved calming yeast.
Chapter 58