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Pang Jian stood in the darkness of the "veil."
Though his robe was also black, it did not blend into the inky darkness as one would expect, allowing the trio to see him clearly.
Their gazes were naturally drawn to his eyes, which were like two boundless seas. Within them, black-sailed ferries seemed to drift toward the distant horizon, as if bound for the edge of the world, toward the depths of Pang Jian's sea of consciousness.
Those ferries drew in anybody looking into his eyes, making it so they could not look away. As they stared, they would grow dizzy and feel as though their consciousness was slowly slipping away.
Li Wang, Li Zhaotian, and Su Wanrou's expressions shifted.
"Pang Jian!" they cried out in unison.
A smile formed on Li Zhaotian's round face. "You little brat. How are you still alive?"
When the rest of the True Gods glanced down at Pang...
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