"Master, Kong the Immortal Master has fallen!"
Wang She's knees weakened, "thud" he knelt on the ground, his forehead tightly pressed against the cold floor tiles, his voice trembling with fear.
Zhao Qingxu slowly turned his body, that featureless pale mask faced him, the voice devoid of emotion:
"Are you very afraid?"
Even in this secluded courtyard, facing his only confidant, that eerie mask remained unmoving on his face.
The voice also seemed to be muffled, as though separated by an invisible barrier, making it indistinguishable from male or female.
"I... I..."
Wang She shivered all over, wishing he could bury his head in the ground, never to see that mask again.
In the eyes of outsiders, he was a formidable, ruthless Incense Master in the Iron Anchor Association, but in front of this Evil God, he couldn't even speak properly.
A very faint chuckle seemed to emanate from behind the mask.
