Ripples spread out, gray fog surged violently.
Screech—
A black line cut through the canvas like a sharp blade, tearing swiftly to both sides and expanding.
In the blink of an eye, the tear quickly formed a spinning black vortex.
It was like an eye suddenly opening in the darkness.
Having sensed the space distortion, Fang Cheng had already clenched his fists, muscles tense, poised in an attack stance, fully prepared.
His scarlet gaze was locked onto the center of the vortex.
There, faint star-like points of light flickered, only to be swallowed by a deeper darkness.
An unsettling gravitational force distorted the light, tearing at the surrounding air, emitting a faint and sharp whistling sound.
Before Zhou Liang and the others could react.
The vortex suddenly shuddered, as if letting out a satiated belch, and "spat" something out.
Two figures stumbled out, crashing heavily onto the cold floor.
No, it should be three people.
