The Demonic Monk

"Where... where am I..."

Ao Zheng felt his body trembling, his heart oppressed as if by a heavyweight, and his whole being crushed under immense stones, making it difficult to breathe, his chest constricted as if suffocating, pinned to the ground.

Struggling to twist his neck, Ao Zheng surveyed the surroundings—fractured rock walls, walls stained with blood, four or five bodies strewn about in grotesque angles, the air thick with a nauseating stench.

"Corpses? Blood?"

"Sword Worship Villa?"

With a sudden surge of effort, Ao Zheng remembered his mission to fetch reinforcements, to seek answers, his father awaiting him.

With resolve, Ao Zheng forced his qi, bracing himself against the wall, rising to his feet.

Yet, in the next moment...

"Spurt!"

Blood gushed forth, staining Ao Zheng's face crimson, his breathing labored, the air carrying a peculiar taste, his chest ablaze with pain, as if nearing death.

"What in the world is happening?"