Han Li was stunned, his mind overwhelmed by what was unfolding before him. He had always been skeptical of things beyond the ordinary, but now he was faced with an entirely new realm of reality—one where ancient, forbidden powers reigned.
As soon as Mo Dafu's voice rang out, the seven strange blades embedded in his body began to twitch and hum. A deep, resonant "buzzing" noise erupted from the ghostly heads of the blades, and it grew louder, sharper, and more frantic, as if the blades themselves were coming to life, trying to break free from Mo Dafu's body.
Mo Dafu looked flustered, his face tightening in frustration as the ghostly heads seemed to act on their own. He muttered something under his breath, his voice too low for Han Li to catch, but it was clear that whatever he was saying wasn't kind.
In a fit of irritation, Mo Dafu stood up and circled the room, his hands moving in subtle gestures, before he stopped in frustration. With a resigned sigh, he extended his index finger and shoved it into one of the ghostly heads' gaping mouth.
In an unbelievable moment, the head—once lifeless and stiff—closed its mouth, its large fangs snapping shut around Mo Dafu's finger. A gentle sucking sound followed, as if the ghostly head were feeding on him.
Mo Dafu trembled slightly, as if he were enduring tremendous pain. Han Li, unable to see his face due to the black mist covering it, could only guess at the expression behind it. But the situation itself was alarming enough.
For a good while, the ghostly head continued to suckle on Mo Dafu's finger until it seemed satisfied, releasing its grip with a final, satisfied hum.
Mo Dafu repeated the process with the remaining blades, feeding each of the ghost heads in turn. Han Li watched, stunned, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. The strange blades, the terrifying ghostly heads, and the swirling dark mist were beyond anything he had ever imagined.
As Mo Dafu completed his ritual, he returned to his earlier hand gestures, muttering words under his breath once more. His voice grew louder, and with a powerful cry, he invoked the name of the technique.
"Seven Ghosts Devouring the Soul Technique!" Mo Dafu bellowed.
This time, something different happened. The seven strange blades no longer trembled or emitted strange noises. Instead, the ghostly heads opened their eyes, revealing blood-red orbs. Their mouths gaped wider, and their cheeks bulged, as if they were preparing to consume something.
The black mist surrounding Mo Dafu thickened and writhed as if aware of the impending disaster. Its tendrils whipped violently, but it could do nothing to stop what was coming.
From the mist, seven thin black lines emerged, tracing elegant arcs through the air before perfectly landing in the open mouths of the waiting ghostly heads. The heads swallowed the lines hungrily, the sucking sounds intensifying as they devoured the black energy.
Han Li stood there, his mind racing. The entire scene seemed to come straight out of a nightmare. The silver blades, the ghostly heads, and the swirling black mist—this was no longer some obscure legend. This was real, and it was happening right before his eyes.
His mind reeled with disbelief. Is this really happening? He had never believed in such things before. To him, they were just stories, things that could never exist. But now, these impossible things were unfolding before him, shaking his understanding of the world.
As the black mist finally began to dissipate, Mo Dafu's true face slowly became visible. Han Li's jaw dropped in shock.
What he saw was nothing like the frail, elderly man he had first met. Instead, a face that seemed no older than thirty stared back at him. The features were strong and youthful, the eyes filled with vitality, and the lips curled into a small, confident smile. It was a face that could easily be described as handsome—exceedingly so.
In fact, Han Li found himself momentarily stunned. This man, who had once seemed so old and decrepit, now looked like a strikingly attractive young man. The transformation was so dramatic that it almost felt surreal.
As Han Li continued to stare, he couldn't help but notice the sheer charisma of the man before him. The gaze was commanding, the expression alluring—a face that seemed designed to captivate, to draw in anyone who looked upon it. Such was the effect of a beauty like this that even the most stoic of hearts could be swayed by it. Women, no matter their age or circumstance, would undoubtedly fall for this man's charm, unable to resist his pull.
A strange feeling stirred within Han Li. Could it be that this transformation, this beauty, is part of the reason Mo Dafu has been so dangerous?
The thought made him uncomfortable, and it wasn't just the transformation that unnerved him. He was still trapped in this perilous situation, surrounded by strange forces beyond his comprehension.
At that moment, a realization hit him. Mo Dafu had told me that he was in his thirties originally, but an accident caused his body to age rapidly. If this is his true form, then perhaps he wasn't lying after all. But if he has the ability to restore his appearance, why would he go to such lengths to harm himself with those blades?
Han Li's thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. It seemed that Mo Dafu's motives were far more complicated than he had initially realized. But for now, he couldn't afford to get lost in these questions. He was still in danger, and he had to find a way out.
As Mo Dafu continued to stand there, seemingly entranced by the power of his restored body, Han Li cleared his throat and decided to speak up. He was still trapped, still at Mo Dafu's mercy, and he needed to know what would happen to him.
"Mo Lao," Han Li began, trying to keep his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around him. "It seems you've returned to your normal state. Does this mean you no longer need me? Will you let me go, so I can continue serving you in the future?"
Mo Dafu didn't immediately respond, still seemingly lost in his own admiration of his rejuvenated form. But Han Li had to ask—he needed to know his fate. The uncertainty of his situation was unbearable, and he hoped for a glimpse of mercy, even if it was just a ruse.