350: Chapter 350 Even the revolving lantern was knocked out?

Outside, in the thick black fog.

Helan Que was still kneeling on the ground in despair.

He covered his face with both hands, unable to even summon the strength to pick up the saber next to him.

The disappearance of Chu Tiankuo, the defeat of Captain Shen Xiuan in seconds, and the absurdity of Yan Qinghuan being heavily injured by him had completely shattered all his fighting spirit.

Suddenly.

Helan Que felt the tangible black fog in front of him being slowly pushed aside by an invisible pair of giant hands.

The surroundings were still pitch black.

However, his intuition as a top-tier martial artist rang out in his mind like a frantic alarm at that moment!

Someone!

Someone was standing quietly in front of him, less than half a step away.

That cold, condescending gaze, devoid of any human emotion, was piercing through the darkness, looking down at him as if it were physical!

It's that monster!

Driven to the brink, the despair in the eyes of the Desert Lone Wolf rebounded, transforming into the extreme madness of a cornered beast!

"I'll fight you to the death!!!"

Helan Que bit his tongue hard, a bloody, metallic taste filling his mouth.

Ignoring everything, he squeezed out the last bit of blood and energy in his body, eyes wide open, hands forming claws, his fingertips laced with the violent cutting power of a sandstorm, and he leaped up from the ground!

He wanted to take this ghost-playing scum down with him!

However, ideals are full, but reality is always coldly despairing.

Just as Helan Que lunged, before his hands could even reach his chest.

A pale, slender hand, carrying a bone-chilling coldness, seemed to pierce through the obstacles of space, completely ignoring the pitiful protective sandstorm around him.

"Snap."

That hand clamped tightly onto Helan Que's neck!

Helan Que's roar was instantly cut off in his throat, his feet lifted off the ground uncontrollably, kicking and struggling wildly.

"Boom!"

Immediately after, a terrifying, soul-shuddering devouring suction force surged into his body along that cold palm, like a bursting flood!

Helan Que felt his spiritual energy, blood, and even his consciousness being forcibly ripped away in that instant!

His eyes began to roll back, his vision blurring rapidly.

In the final moment before closing his eyes and losing consciousness completely.

In his blurred vision, Helan Que vaguely saw that pale Faceless Man mask.

That person didn't look at him, but instead very skillfully removed the storage ring from his finger.

Then, the hand gripping his neck loosened abruptly.

Helan Que, having lost consciousness, fell like a broken kite with snapped strings.

He plummeted straight into the boundless dark abyss beneath his feet.

Yet, all of this was invisible and inaudible to Yan Qinghuan, who was just over ten meters away.

Inside the white light barrier of absolute defense, the air seemed to have solidified into heavy lead, pressing down on Yan Qinghuan's chest.

This blind genius from Shushan Dao-Wu Academy now had a face ashen like death, gasping for air in large gulps.

The pain originally caused by Helan Que's accidental injury had long since been completely replaced by a bone-deep terror.

Quiet.

Deathly quiet.

Just a moment ago, Helan Que's hysterical cursing was still echoing in this thick fog like a mad beast.

But only a few breaths later, that cursing was cut off as if by a sharp blade, stopping abruptly.

No sounds of fighting arose, nor was there any explosive noise of a dying struggle.

A dignified Peak Fourth-Order expert had just disappeared without a sound.

Blind people are inherently hypersensitive to sound and airflow changes in their surroundings; they rely on hearing and perception to construct their world.

But now, the black fog outside was like a thick layer of soundproof foam, completely isolating him from the world.

Having lost all his teammates, suffering from heavy injuries, without even a defensive formation disk in hand, and trapped in this immobile spot, this unknown fear of "not knowing when the butcher's knife will fall" was tearing the sanity of this formation genius to shreds bit by bit, like a meat grinder.

"Is anyone there..."

Yan Qinghuan swallowed a mouthful of blood-tasting saliva, squeezing a weak cry from his dry throat.

No response.

He fumbled closer to the white light shield, the only straw he could grasp now.

As long as this shell, refined by a Tier 5 Grandmaster, remained, the devil lurking in the darkness could do nothing to him!

As long as he waited for the teleportation array to activate...

"Crack."

A subtle, almost negligible crisp sound echoed abruptly inside the silent light shield.

The sound wasn't loud, but to Yan Qinghuan's ears, it was like a thunderbolt from the nine heavens striking his crown!

Yan Qinghuan's hair stood on end in that instant, his Heart shrinking into a ball!

He pressed his perception against the barrier in sheer horror.

Then, he "saw" a scene that shattered his guts.

The absolute defensive light shield, which was touted to be able to withstand a full-force blow from a Tier 5 Grandmaster, had a fine, spiderweb-like crack appear on its surface out of nowhere!

Immediately following, wisps of eerie ink-colored cloud, as if they had smelled blood, followed that imperceptible crack, wriggling and penetrating in bit by bit!

"This is impossible!"

Yan Qinghuan backed away in a breakdown until his back pressed firmly against the other side of the shield, with nowhere left to retreat.

The ink-colored cloud didn't follow any rules; it easily penetrated the defense, continuously pouring into this narrow safe zone.

Within just two or three breaths, the interior of the light shield, which had originally emitted a soft white light, was completely filled with black fog.

A cold, suffocating despair surged into his Heart, as if a pair of invisible hands were gripping his throat tightly.

Yan Qinghuan opened his mouth to breathe, but all he inhaled was the ink-colored cloud carrying the scent of death.

His Lungs burned with pain, his consciousness began to blur rapidly, and the strength in his body was drained bit by bit.

"Am I going to die..."

In this suffocating darkness, Yan Qinghuan gave up resisting completely.

His Brain fell into a trance due to lack of oxygen, and before his eyes, a "revolving lantern" of moving memories began to play uncontrollably.

He saw himself as a child, holding a wooden sword and clumsily waving it in front of the towering Sword Pavilion at Shushan;

He saw his teacher's kind face, those large, warm hands touching the top of his head, saying earnestly: "Qinghuan, although your eyes cannot see, your inner eye is brighter than anyone else's."

"You, are the future of our Shushan Dao-Wu Academy."

He saw himself competing on behalf of the academy for the first time, winning the title of chief under the eyes of everyone, the fanatical cheers of his junior brothers and sisters resounding through the sky...

"Teacher... your student is unfilial; I suppose this is where I end."

"I am afraid I cannot accompany the future of Great Xia's martial arts any further..."

Yan Qinghuan slowly closed his eyes.

On that face covered in black ash and bruises, a clear tear, filled with tragedy and relief, slowly slid down the corner of his eye.

He tilted his head back, opened his arms, and in a gesture of generous readiness to meet death, prepared to welcome the final judgment of the Grim Reaper.