Baili An's body slumped to the ground, unconscious and without a sign of life, at the exact moment her tongue was severed.
The old ghost's voice trembled slightly; he should have been the night's ghost hunter, yet at that moment, fear had finally seized his soul.
Under the moonlight, the young boy holding the severed tongue, with his crying blood-red eyes, was not the truly terrifying part; it was not the blood pupils that stared like a Ghost, but rather the fact that he had a pair of eyes that could intimidate the soul of ghosts. And yet his face remained calm and gentle, a serene countenance amidst the eerie scene, truly bizarre to the core.
There was no more wind in the alley, but the old ghost felt a chill throughout his body and shivered, "How... how exactly did you see through my true form?"
Baili An said indifferently, "You talk a lot."
The old ghost: "..."
