In the cavernous hall, it was empty and silent.
But by the stone bed stood two men, who were quietly observing Ye Chenfeng, without uttering a sound.
The man standing on the right had an incredibly tall and straight physique, akin to a steel spear.
He was cloaked in a black robe that almost covered his entire body, with the hood pulled over his head, making him appear cold and arrogant, like a drawn sword, with an aura of frost.
His face was vaguely visible from the front—a pair of eerie eyes, deep as the night, with a captivating magical power. His glance seemed to have lightning snakes dancing in them. Just one look could intimidate many.
A line of small words was tattooed on his left cheek, although unclear, it gave off a peculiar feeling.
More importantly, he exuded an uncomfortable aura, causing people nearby to feel chest tightness, breathing difficulties, even suffocation.
"What's happened to the Divine King?"
The elderly man on the left spoke in astonishment.
