Soon, Tuluo Cheng's body could no longer withstand the pressure of the golden light, and he coughed up blood. "Cough!"
Watching everything from the side, Feng Xiyan's heart trembled in awe.
Unlike Feng Xiyan, who was thrilled to witness a miracle, Tuluo Cheng felt like he was about to die.
Clenching his jaw, he endured the crushing pressure and thought, 'No! I can't die here! I still need to avenge my tribesmen!'
The second that thought formed, an ethereal, male voice echoed in his mind.
"Born from love, raised by hatred, die with regret."
The ethereal voice shook Tuluo Cheng's heart.
"W—who… are you?" he asked, glaring at the bronze mirror.
Instead of answering, the voice said, "Repent, and your wish will come true. Remember, you only have one chance."
After that, the bronze mirror floated back to the altar. A second later, the golden light disappeared, and everything fell silent.
