The faint light lit Ai Hui’s face up and he felt the thread of warmth flow between his brows.
In the sky palace, a lotus flower lamp suddenly glowed brightly as the flame in the centre of the petals became bright and concentrated. A roll of golden scripture surrounded and circled around the lamp fire. The words on the scripture were unclear no matter how closely Ai Hui tried to look. Following the circling of the golden scripture, an indistinct and faintly discernible sutra-chanting voice echoed through his sky palace.
Wisps of black smoke grew and were released from all parts of his body, moving quietly like a beast upon smelling something fishy.
Ai Hui’s face was quickly enveloped by a layer of thick black smoke. It was as if he was wearing a mask made of fog. The black smog wriggled like little weird and dangerous poisonous worms. Cold and malevolent, it rushed unceasingly towards the space between Ai Hui’s brows.