Xu Yan reached out to grab the treasure pouch on the stone table. Suddenly, with a loud bang, the crimson stone coffin shattered, and a crimson hand stretched out from the coffin, grabbing his wrist.
"Young man, you have killed Huo Tu and arrived here. You are not mediocre. I am in need of fresh blood food!" said a chilling voice.
Xu Yan remained calm, as if he had known all along. He didn't withdraw his reaching hand but directly gripped the treasure pouch. At the same time, his wrist was grasped by the crimson hand.
A powerful, eerie aura emanated from the crimson hand.
The crimson hand manifested faint bloody red flames, seemingly corroding and refining the flesh, absorbing the essence of his flesh.
As Xu Yan gripped the treasure pouch, a cold light flashed in his eyes, and sword light emerged from his wrist. Like a revolving wheel of swords, it ensnared the crimson hand.
The sword wheel rotated, seemingly about to sever the crimson hand.