The bedroom was steeped in a heavy atmosphere, as though the lingering shadows of the earlier battle had yet to disperse. The malignant aura of the weasel demon-immortal had completely vanished, leaving only Amelia unconscious on the sofa. Her brows were tightly furrowed, her face pale, yet her chest rose and fell faintly—she was still breathing.
Hang Zhongxuan was the first to break the silence, his voice low but decisive.
"Take him away."
Cen Wenyu understood immediately. He stepped forward, seized Johnson's arm, and poured spiritual force into the man's meridians, locking them down. Johnson was forced to his knees. The ferocity on his face slowly gave way to panic, yet he still clenched his teeth and let out cold, mocking laughs, as though trying to disguise his growing fear.
Hang Zhongxuan offered him no chance to maneuver. His voice was icy as he added,
