One Person: I, the Dragon Tiger Stall King! I Won!

42: There is no key to the underground palace, but the stall can draw the doorThe moment the second gate of the underground palace swung open, time seemed to be frozen by the gushing cold mist.

”The liquid has been drunk, the Souls have gathered... The Three Caves shall open.”

The voice did not sound human; it was more like countless Souls overlapping and grinding on the same syllable. It carried a metallic emptiness and deathly silence as it seeped from the bottomless darkness behind the gate, drilling into everyone’s eardrums and piercing their Divine Souls.

Immediately following that was the first utterance from the figure on the Stall Cloth.

”Master of the Cloth, Entering the Game.”

This voice was entirely different—it was grand, ancient, and devoid of any emotion, as if it were a proclamation of the laws of the Heavenly Dao.

Every word was like an invisible great bell, suddenly tolling in the hearts of Xuan Weizi, Su Qingzhu, and Gongshu Yin, shaking them so hard their Qi and blood surged and their heads spun.

Xuan Weizi’s whole body shook violently, forcibly dragged out of the massive blow of his brother’s betrayal by this voice.

He jerked his head up to look at Zhang Xuanyi, his eyes bloodshot and filled with unbelievable terror.

”Master... Master of the Cloth? Entering what game?!”

This had already exceeded his scope of understanding.

Underground palaces, sacrifices—before the words ”Entering the Game,” they all seemed like a clumsy rural ghost story.

Behind this, there seemed to be a terrifying truth involved that he couldn’t even touch with his imagination.

A Yuan was still kneeling on the ground, his body trembling slightly from exhaustion.

He heard those words, and his thin back suddenly stiffened.

He didn’t understand what ”Entering the Game” meant, but he could feel the majesty contained in that voice that transcended life and death.

He subconsciously lifted his eyeless face, his empty sockets ”looking” toward Zhang Xuanyi. His lips moved, but he couldn’t make a single sound.

Only Zhang Xuanyi still stood perfectly straight.

His expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, as if those two earth-shattering sentences were nothing more than a light breeze by the roadside.

He didn’t even blink his eyelids much, merely casting a faint glance at the slightly hot Stall Cloth in front of him.

The outline of that back remained blurry. After saying those words, it fell silent again, as if it had never spoken.

”Game?” A very faint curve hooked at the corner of Zhang Xuanyi’s mouth, his smile as cold as the freezing wind blowing from behind the gate. ”Whose game it is... isn’t certain yet.”

Ignoring the shock of the three people behind him, he stepped forward, the first to walk toward the wide-open stone gate.

”Boss Zhang, wait!” Su Qingzhu was the first to react. Suppressing the throbbing in her heart, she stepped forward quickly. ”The situation inside is unclear, and that voice...”

”The voice is a warning left for those who can understand,” Zhang Xuanyi’s footsteps didn’t stop, his voice drifting back steadily. ”It is also an invitation... left for those who cannot see clearly.”

One of his feet had already stepped inside the frame of the second gate.

A blast of Yin Qi ten times stronger than before hit him in the face. It was no longer mist, but a cold current solidified into substance, sharp as a knife, scraping painfully against his cheeks.

Gongshu Yin felt as if his entire body’s blood was about to freeze, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

In this cold air, there was also an indescribable smell mixed in.

It wasn’t the rot of a corpse, nor the fishy smell of mud, but a kind of... ancient aura of despair originating from the depths of the Soul.

It was as if hundreds or thousands of Souls imprisoned for millennia were wailing day and night here. Their sorrow and resentment had soaked into every inch of the air, turning into this bone-chilling ”scent.”

”Mas... Master...” A Yuan let out a dream-like murmur from behind. Pushing off the ground with both hands, he actually struggled to his feet and followed, stumbling along.

The aura behind that gate held a fatal attraction for him, as if it were summoning something missing from his body.

Xuan Weizi’s eyes were vacant. He looked at Zhang Xuanyi’s back, then at the stone statue that had returned to deathly silence. The void left by his collapsed faith was filled with massive confusion and fear.