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In an instant, the vitality saved in Vermilion Bird’s body was injected into Edmond’s lifeless corpse. Two seconds later, the Black Gold altar under the corpse glowed faintly of a gray light.
Edmond slowly opened his eyes, which glinted with the same faint gray.
He didn’t move, but opened his eyes slightly.
“Answer the questions, Edmond,” Vermilion Bird spoke at a hastened pace but in an authoritative tone that demanded obedience.
“Yes.”
Edmond’s tone was devoid of emotions, the cold, hoarse voice squeezed out of the throat like an echo from the abyss, chilling.
“Do wanderers and humans give birth to Spectres?”
Qilin had learned of Gao Yang’s hypothesis, and he asked the first question.
“They do not,” Edmond...
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