The piercing screams of death arose one after another, pots and pans clattered noisily amidst the chaos, and wind-like echoes swept past. Countless sounds blended together, as if the Qingfeng Pavilion had been tossed into hot oil like a lump of tofu.
In contrast, the grand hall was deserted and cold. Wei Wuque casually pulled out a chair, poured himself some tea, completely unmoved by the screams that filled the air. He knew that the louder and more agonized the cries, the fewer the deaths.
The true inferno on earth was almost silent.
The dan-role actor on stage had finished performing, trembling and anxious as the screaming continued. Catching sight of Wei Wuque sitting there as if nothing was amiss, the actor couldn't help but feel both astonished and curious.
Wei Wuque lifted his eyelids slightly and said:
"Not bad. Which scene from Sword Records was that? I haven't listened to opera in ages, and I can't quite recall."
