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Wang Yu's heartbeat gradually quickened. His ripples dampened his presence as he crouched behind the courtyard wall of a modest three-story dwelling.
Fighting spirit surged in bursts from his limbs and core, coursing through his body as he sharpened his senses—a warm-up, in a sense, but with no room for error.
Blood slid from his fingertips, creeping across the ground and slipping through the cracks in the wall. Guided by Blood Tempest, it spread out in fine threads. His ripples clung to each line of blood, relaying the information they touched back to him.
"Mana and void energy are both rising in the vicinity. This isn't natural… Someone's here. But are they here for me?"
Eyes half-closed, Wang Yu focused his senses entirely on sound.
That was when he noticed an eerie stillness. The absence of people was expected in this corner of the city, but now, even the faint stir of air and the crumbling of loose stone had gone silent. Something was wrong.
"A dome of silence… I'm likely their target, then. And if that's the case… who might it be?"
The rising mana levels all but confirmed the presence of a dome of silence. No one cast that kind of magic for no reason. Whoever had come was not a friend.
"The Abyssal Gate? No… that's unlikely. Then… could it be the royal family?"
That thought crept into Wang Yu's mind. The more he considered it, the more plausible it seemed. From the very beginning, this entire affair surrounding the descent of the God of Terror had reeked of politcal intrigue. Setting aside the chaos caused by the Perfected One's subsequent rampage, who stood to...
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