Those were the last whispered words of the "invader"—the breath representing life was so faint at the moment of death that it sounded like a breeze drifting from the edge of an illusion, melting quietly by the ear, leaving behind an unsettling ticking sound.
It was the sound of blood dripping onto the ground.
"What did he say?"
Another monastery member leaned in and asked softly.
The man in the black robe standing beside Yu Sheng's body lowered his head, seemingly still perplexed by the disturbing auditory hallucination, until his companion asked for the second time. It was as if he woke from a dream and raised his head, murmuring in a confused tone, "He said he's dying, but something else has come alive... I don't know, I couldn't hear clearly."
His voice carried a hint of hesitation, as if even just repeating the words brought some mental unease.
But where exactly did this unease come from? What was he worried about? The man in the black robe couldn't say for sure.
