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As if sensing He Lingchuan’s gaze, Zhong Shengguang turned and flicked him a look that was as sharp as lightning.
Just then, the hall doors opened again. Several civil officials and military officers filed in, and behind them came a spellcaster.
Wen Daolun, Helian Chen, and General Nanke were all familiar faces to He Lingchuan. They were practically old acquaintances by now.
“Everyone’s here.” Zhong Shengguang nodded to the spellcaster, who immediately produced a long-handled mirror and lifted it high.
The handle and frame were made of pink gold, exhibiting passionflower patterns. Two deep-red gemstones were set into the rim; the design was exaggerated and lavish to the point of extravagance.
But inside the frame was not an ordinary mirror surface; it was an eyeball!
Yes, a single enormous yellow eye, nearly two-thirds of a meter in diameter, with a vertical slit pupil like a crocodile’s or a cat’s.
Honestly, an eyeball detached from any body and still darting around—up, down, left, right—was terrifying enough.
Worse, its gaze felt malicious, especially when it fixed on you.
He Lingchuan’s skin prickled with goosebumps.
Luckily, the huge eye stared at him for less than a second before moving on to the next person.
After a few dozen breaths of this, the eye showed no reaction. Only then did...
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