Chapter Seven: Evolution (Part Two)

Heavens, what on earth did they witness!

On a pale, bloodless face, a pair of ivory eyes stared at them with an unnatural intensity, casting shadows wherever his gaze landed.

At this moment, Guan Qian stood upright, his white pupils locked onto the black box in the mysterious man's hand. The eerie and uncanny aura thickened perceptibly.

He extended a pair of blanching, delicate hands toward the black box, causing the three mysterious figures to recoil in alarm, unease slowly flooding their hearts.

“Is he—human, or…ghost?” The man furthest back, his scarred face twitching, stammered out the question.

Silence.

No one spoke. The tension mounted, so much so that the three could hear their own heavy breathing, cold sweat mingling with terror breaking out instantly.

The man holding the black box swallowed hard, clutching the case and urging the one with the dagger, “Stab him—stab him!”

The dagger-wielder glanced at his companions, tightened his grip, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He forced himself to calm and began to approach Guan Qian step by step.

Yet, a single sinister glare from Guan Qian’s white pupils sent him stumbling backward, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

“Damn it! What are you afraid of? Get up there and stab him!” The man with the black box shouted, his voice loud and forceful. Clearly, the command had some effect; their terror diminished somewhat.

The dagger-bearer eyed Guan Qian’s ghastly complexion and those uncanny white eyes. Gritting his teeth, he let out a roar, mustered his courage, switched his grip to a stabbing motion, and lunged forward.

Just as the dagger was about to pierce Guan Qian, the three mysterious men had already imagined his downfall, muttering inwardly, ‘Turns out, it was just a scare—he’s nothing but a paper tiger!’

But in the next instant, what happened stunned the two men standing further away, a surge of dread intensifying within them.

As the dagger flew toward him, Guan Qian simply raised one arm and seized the attacker’s throat. The arm wielding the dagger froze in midair, unable to move an inch.

The dagger-wielding assailant’s eyes bulged with terror. He could feel himself utterly immobilized, as if bound by invisible chains.

Staring into those ivory pupils at half arm’s length, he felt as though Death itself was gazing at him, ready to drag him into the abyss.

With a resounding slap, Guan Qian knocked the dagger from his hand, sending it clattering to the floor. Then he hoisted the man by the throat, lifting him into the air.

Accompanied by the man’s feeble struggles and terrified eyes, Guan Qian suddenly flung him aside with a single sweep of his arm.

A scream was abruptly cut off!

The two remaining mysterious men were already chilled to the bone; one even collapsed to the ground in fright.

The man before them was beyond monstrous—he’d lifted a person and tossed him to his death with a single motion.

“Shoot! Shoot!” The only one remaining calm enough, the man clutching the black box, barked out the command.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

In a panic, the two men drew their guns and fired wildly at Guan Qian.

Yet, after the mad barrage, the two could only stare in disbelief, their faces stiff with horror.

All the bullets hung suspended in mid-air, as if striking an invisible bulletproof vest, their trajectories abruptly halted. The space before them was filled with transparent fissures, as though a simple touch could shatter them.

One of the men screamed, squeezed his eyes shut, and fired again in a frenzy. Bullets sprayed like a swarm of mad locusts.

But the outcome was the same—all bullets clustered in mid-air, frozen as if time itself had stopped.

He could hardly believe his own eyes. Was this even human? Bullets couldn’t kill him! Was this pale-eyed man human or ghost?

Still reeling, the pair suddenly saw Guan Qian’s white pupils flare brightly. They retreated in terror, one scrambling and crawling to escape.

They were terrified—utterly terrified! Petrified to the core!

With a sweep, Guan Qian gathered all the bullets in his palm. He gazed coldly at the fleeing men, their reflections dancing in his blazing white eyes like skeletons.

With a flick, he hurled the bullets like the scythe of Death. Before the two could even scream, they were silenced forever.

Their eyes bulged, a testament to their unwillingness to die.

Guan Qian, expressionless, walked to the corpses. His pale, flickering pupils stared fixedly at the black box, but as he picked it up, his body suddenly collapsed to the ground.

His brilliant white eyes contracted, the light receding within, and clarity returned—but Guan Qian had already fainted.

An icy, drowsy sensation swept over him. He wanted to sleep, to sleep forever.

From a dark corner, a shadow emerged like a specter. The figure picked up the black box from the ground, grabbed Guan Qian, and vanished into the night with swift, nimble movements—clearly not an ordinary person.

With a thud, Guan Qian was tossed onto a large bed, yet he showed no signs of waking from his unconsciousness.

In the pitch-dark room, a shaft of moonlight streamed silently through the window, illuminating Guan Qian’s face, which had regained a hint of color, appearing both handsome and cold.

The figure stood silent in front of Guan Qian, their shadowy eyes fixed on him, as if pondering something—or waiting for something.

After a long, long time, the figure finally moved, opening the black box.

Yes, they intended to take out the crystal skull from within.

What was their purpose?

As the lid was slowly lifted, a translucent crystal skull was cradled in their hands.

The crystal skull was exquisitely clear, its smooth surface glowing faintly under the moonlight, emitting sparks of luminescence. Within its hollow crystal eye sockets, a pale glow flickered like a phantom flame.

It was a man’s skull, radiant, unmatched. Yet it exuded an uncanny, enigmatic aura, as if imbued with sentience, a faint shimmering light slowly coursing over its surface.

Were any archaeologists to see this, they would be utterly dumbfounded. Such a phenomenon would overturn their knowledge—surely a breakthrough in archaeological history.

Now, the crystal skull was slowly held before Guan Qian’s face. The shimmering skull reflected his pale features—and at that moment, something extraordinary occurred!

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