He spread his arms wide, holding them out in a straight line with his palms facing down. He stood eerily still, like a scarecrow in a rural field, or perhaps a marionette left in a theatrical prop box.
Black particles continuously hovered upward, drilling back into Ji Tang’s eyes, ears, mouth, and nose.
Zhao Wujiang watched this scene with a solemn expression. It was as if he could see threads connected from every joint of Ji Tang’s body, stretching up toward the heavens.
Chapter 281