On top of the official post station, a cool night breeze blew, and a bright and clear moon hung in the ink-black sky.
Moonlight poured down like water, illuminating a horrifying scene.
The middle-aged man actually began peeling off his skin, revealing the crimson, writhing flesh underneath.
The others were the same.
Dozens of people at the post station all transformed into terrifying blood men, with a sky-piercing evil aura and a stench of rot assaulting the senses.
Qin An clenched his five fingers, feeling the icy touch from the hilt of the Cold Star Saber.
He narrowed his eyes and said in a low voice, "Not monsters, nor pseudo-gods."
Though there was an overwhelming evil aura, Qin An could still feel that these dozens of skin-peeling people were not monsters or pseudo-gods.
Mr. Sun flipped his right hand, silver needles gleaming coldly between his fingers, his expression as serious as iron: "Be careful, they're skin-peeling monsters."
