The land near the grave cracked open, and a bizarre giant snake formed by intertwining nine white pythons rose from the wide crevices, coldly laughing, "The painful times of the past few months have been your punishment, Liuyun Village. If next time's sacrifice angers me again..."
"There will definitely be no mistake again."
"That's best." The nine snakes twisted their bodies, lifting their sharp, awl-like tails and piercing them into themselves...
If looked at closely, it's not into the body of any python but held in the middle of a human face's forehead.
This human face is normally invisible, only visible when the nine snakes draw blood.
Upon seeing the face, Zhou Xuan's heart filled with joy—it was none other than Xu Jingshan, whom Zhou Xuan had seen in the fur shop, the Great Saint of Literature from two hundred and twenty years ago.
