The incense smoke slowly drifted upward, its straight line gradually unfurling to fill the room and cover the stench of blood.
Lin Hui stood in the center of the room with his hands behind his back, staring at the Celestial Dragon Daoist, who was being kept in a metal barrel.
The old Daoist was just a torso, tossed casually into the barrel. His face was rigid as he stared intently at Lin Hui, his thoughts unreadable.
The sky was gradually lightening; dawn was about to break.
In the span of a single night, the perpetrator of the "blood character" case, who had run rampant for years, had been captured and brought here without a sound.
"You can't kill me," the Celestial Dragon Daoist said hoarsely.
"And how would you know that?" Lin Hui asked.
"Because your weapon has no Mana. Without Mana, you cannot kill an Immortal like me." Though his limbs had been severed, Tian Long showed no sign of panic, as if merely stating a fact.
