Chapitre 207: Chapter 96 Art Building Lobby_2

Occasionally, a wisp of candlelight flickering in the wind would twist through the mist and land on their palms, their claws, casting a hissing smoke and, in pain, recoiling back into the darkness.

Mao Feiyang's heart was involuntarily seized by a surge of intense fear as those twisted figures pursued his trail like a viscous, pitch-black pool of corrupt blood. It was as if a pair of hands were gradually overtaking him from the shadows behind, attempting to throttle his throat.

At last, the light projected from the Watchtower was shrouded by the thick mist and could no longer illuminate him. The faint candlelight left on the Stone Bridge offered little protection. He took a deep breath and charged toward the archway that was a blend of Gothic and Baroque architectural styles.