Han Yan faced such a bizarre scene without an ounce of nervousness, deciding to wait and see, since the Wandering Soul now had to deal with Qu Fengting. Yang Boqiao was flabbergasted, realizing that Han Yan's words had come true—the axiom that good is rewarded with good and evil with evil held firm, and indeed, retribution for one's misdeeds always came, and swiftly at that.
"Nine hundred and ninety-nine years, a full nine hundred and ninety-nine years," the skeleton let out a dry laugh, like a metal spoon scraping against a porcelain bowl, grating and uncomfortably piercing to the heart.
As it spoke, the skeleton stretched out its withered hands, flexing its fingers back and forth. Qu Fengting was also terrified by this sight, struggling desperately, but in vain—he seemed to be bound by an invisible rope, continuously pulled back despite his efforts.
