“Ah—!”
Down on the white jade signing altar, Saintess Lin Qing let out a muffled cry as the hidden black Soul-Puppet Needle inside the plastic rose pierced her wrist meridian.
Even though her mind was beginning to struggle against the pink fog, the venomous puppet-qi hijacked the muscles of her right arm against her will. Like a wooden marionette yanked by an iron wire, her bleeding right thumb plunged downward toward the glowing vermilion ink of the Frost-Moon Clan Ancestral Spirit Vein Deed.
Three inches remained.
In less than three seconds, her heart-blood would touch the ancient transfer rune, locking fifty thousand Frost-Moon clanspeople out of their own survival vein forever.
“No! Stop her hand!” Second Elder Lin Shan screamed from the bottom of the stairs, scrambling upward on his broken knees.
Four Supreme Sword Sect halberdiers slammed their spear shafts across his back to pin him down.
Two paces away from the pedestal, Holy Son Chu Tian kept his head bowed in fake sorrow, but the corners of his mouth curled into a cold, venomous smirk.
