Lu Yuan took a deep breath. Flame-like Death Qi surged from his surroundings, coalescing behind him into four black wings that shimmered with a crystalline luster.
Like a plume of black smoke, he silently flew out of the window, ascending straight up.
Within moments, he reached an altitude of several dozen meters.
The black wings flapped silently as Lu Yuan surveyed the scene below.
The entirety of Linghe Pavilion lay before him, streetlights dotting the urban nightscape at his feet. He could see pedestrians hurrying home late and delivery drivers on electric scooters weaving through the streets and alleys.
A faint warmth emanated from his right chest.
Lu Yuan gently pressed the spot where the Elephant God's curse mark lay, waiting silently until the warmth gradually faded.
The curse seemed to have drawn a little closer.
