And yet, one second passed.
Two seconds, three...
The smile on Wang Xi's face gradually stiffened.
The Five Thunders Talisman he pressed against his own funeral portrait remained completely inert, as if it couldn't sense the presence of any so-called evil spirit.
"?!"
Wang Xi was stunned.
He quickly snatched his hand back, instead raising the Eight Trigrams Mirror high and brandishing the Peach Wood Sword. He moved like a Daoist performing a ritual pace—the mirror's surface reflected the rickshaw, and the Peach Wood Sword in his hand struck like lightning, stabbing forward with a SWISH and piercing the portrait.
DING!
CRACK!
The glass over the portrait shattered, causing the eerie, smiling face to break apart and shift, making it look even more terrifying.
A sinister wind blew past, and Wang Xi felt a chill run down his spine.
No reaction!
Still no reaction!
The three genuine Magical Artifacts seemed to have malfunctioned, no different from mere decorations.
