Shen Mingyue's fingertips grazed the twisted human-face relief on the Bronze Cauldron, the ice-cold touch carrying a bizarre pulse. Those sunken eye sockets and torn corners of the mouth seemed to be silently recounting a millennium-old curse. When her thumb inadvertently pressed into a certain fissure, a fishy, sweet scent suddenly seeped out from the gap, taking on an eerie dark purple under the moonlight.
Just then, a gust of chill wind blew, and the mist around the altar churned strangely, forming a massive whirlpool. Faint sounds of dragging chains and a child's sobs drifted from within the fog. She vigilantly gripped her soft sword; the Holy Tribe Bloodline surged restlessly within her body, and the silver pattern on her chest emitted a faint glow, dimly resisting the surrounding pervading dark power.
That light flickered in the mist, like a dying candle in a storm. "Do not be nervous, child of the Holy Tribe." An aged voice came from deep within the mist, carrying a profound weight honed by time.
Chapter 124