Wu Zhen's words were like the most venomous curse.
Qing Wu's eyes turned crimson in an instant, like blood boiling up from a scarlet purgatory.
She swiftly formed a hand seal with her left hand, and with unwavering resolve, ghostly power transformed into black thorns that burst from the ground in all directions, sharp and terrifying. They mercilessly pierced through Wu Zhen's body, nailing her firmly to the spot, as if she had become a human-shaped target run through by thorns.
Wu Zhen coughed up a mouthful of blood, one thorn slashing up from beneath her jaw, impaling her left eye socket.
Each thorn bore floating sinister runes, embodying the power of the underworld's origin—gnawing at her soul, the pain comparable to being ground repeatedly in the millstone hell.
Yet even so, Wu Zhen smiled and said, "You died tragically during your tribulation in your past life because of me. Now you've taken revenge—well deserved. Have you vented your anger?"
