The man with the surname Jie on the main stage began to wave the flag in his hand.
Wisps of black smoke continuously rose from below, gathering into the black whirlpool, making it more massive and intense.
Li Zhiyuan noticed that the man with the surname Jie was not chanting; he was merely guiding.
The curse cloud above was essentially unrelated to him.
Perhaps because the curse power from the people around him was being drawn upwards to gather, they temporarily became less "unbearable to look at."
At least, when Li Zhiyuan deliberately turned his head, and his gaze was about to encompass someone sitting next to him, he didn't feel a strong sense of foreboding, and his eyelids stopped twitching.
Although still very dangerous, Li Zhiyuan continued to turn his head and looked at the person.
For the first time, he saw the person clearly.
Wearing a black robe, nearing forty, even with a face pale as snow, it couldn't hide the steadfast lines on his face.
