Just then, Daniel suddenly felt it—a chilling sensation, as if he had been locked in the gaze of something vast and ominous.
The Blood Moon had turned its attention toward him.
Spread across its vast, crimson surface were tens of thousands of grotesque eyes, and at this moment, every single one of them was fixed directly on Daniel. The oppressive feeling of being stared at by such a monstrous celestial body sent a ripple of unease through him.
Daniel paused, momentarily stunned. Then, as if in bitter amusement, he let out a quiet chuckle.
"With the shrouding effect of Mist," he muttered to himself, "even a god can't spy on me. How could a mere Blood Moon possibly see me?"
But something was wrong.
Daniel quickly noticed that the Blood Moon's gaze, though intense, carried no trace of Mind Power—no probing, no perception, no attempt to reach into his thoughts or essence. It was a passive stare, not an active detection.
That made no sense.
What exactly was going on?
