As the saying goes, always pick the softest target.
The Ghost was here to launch an attack. Killing one person was the same as killing any other, but the Church Knights were too close to Wang Yaoting to be easy targets. In comparison, the isolated Zhou Chen became that soft target—a perfect choice.
In that instant, a deathly chill shot up Zhou Chen's spine. He saw a massive, storm-like torrent of morbid, dark malevolence swirling around the Ghost, twisting the entire World like a force field until the sky and earth grew dim, as if witnessing the apocalypse.
Pinned by the Uncrowned's killing intent and an unknown Extraordinary Ability, his body became like a statue, unable to move. His Soul felt as if it had been plunged into an icy cavern. It was as if frigid water was surging in from all directions to drown him, his consciousness falling into a World of absolute Darkness, sinking endlessly. In the silence, all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.
