"Ahhhhh---!!!"
A suppressed and restrained wail of misery erupted abruptly, echoing throughout the Great Hall and extending into the corridors of the tomb.
Even in the back hall, far away where the passageway was blocked, the atmosphere among a group of women tightened.
At this moment, the scorching candle flame had left Qin Jianfu's two fingers and spread across Zhao Rong's upper body, burning freely.
It was like a fire snake clinging to him, coiling and circling above the chest of the one-armed Confucian Scholar.
Neck, face, scalp, headscarf...
Every hair turned to ash, every piece of cloth disappeared in smoke.
Every inch of skin shriveled with scorch, every piece of flesh carbonized.
It was as if this 'fire snake' had licked them one by one, its barbed tongue ruthlessly scraping off the charred flesh, then rolling it into its belly, continuing to lick after savoring the taste.
