"Is this the one?"
As the box opened, a chilling air escaped, revealing the remnants preserved within. A faint whiff of sulfuric stench began to spread...
For a moment, the polite smile on Chen Haiqiu's face froze.
Instinctively, he tensed up.
His eyes turned sharp, as if facing a formidable enemy.
But soon, after confirming there was no harm, he relaxed again.
"Yes, this is indeed the one."
He leaned closer, scrutinizing it carefully and nodding repeatedly, though slowly a hint of doubt crept in: "But... why has the aura diminished so much?"
In the box in front of Chen Haiqiu lay a splintered arm, still emitting a pungent odor. Tiny sparks flickered at the fractured wounds.
However, the Mutated Spirit that once overflowed from it had faded considerably, barely discernible.
Becoming a mere façade.
As if only an empty shell remained.
"I have no idea."
