The Old Witch simply spread her arms, laughing as she let Zhou Chen continue his futile attacks and struggles.
The Curse Power within her shell seeped out, gradually solidifying her body. Each of Zhou Chen's strikes felt like hitting solid rock, sending violent tremors up his wrist. Several notches appeared on the sharp, serrated blade, which then began to rust.
"Begone."
Soon, as if she had tired of the game, a Curse True Mantra escaped the Old Witch's lips. Zhou Chen's vision went black, and blood poured from his seven orifices. Clouds of crimson mist erupted from his body, leaving him as tattered as a rag doll. He was sent flying by an invisible force, crashing into the Cursed Black Sea.
Viscous. Icy. It felt like plummeting into the deepest ocean.
Zhou Chen slammed heavily onto the ground. When he opened his eyes, he saw only darkness. He felt the pull of countless hands on his body as hideous, despairing faces emerged, crying out in agony:
