The situation was generally progressing in a good direction. Yang Qizhou stretched lazily, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Initially, he thought about having a sip of coke, but as his gaze landed on the twisted flesh in front of him, a wave of nausea surged up, instantly dispelling his good mood.
Yang Qizhou redirected his attention back to the phone screen.
On the other side, Mr. Death also keenly noticed the subtle change in the 'lamp holder's expression. He instinctively adjusted his glasses and thought to himself, "Still in the mood to stretch? Looks like the situation isn't too bad after all."
From the moment he entered this villa—no, from the moment he ran into the 'lamp holder,' Mr. Death had felt a constant surge of shock reverberating inside him.
First, there was the utter suppression of the 'Death Cult' and the 'Hermit Association.'
Then came involvement in the divine skirmish at the level of the 'Deception Lord.'
