Black Death

Momore’s drawn out neighing resonated in the ears of everyone present, before a boundless pressure came crushing down from the darkness of this tent!

A faint inhospitable inhuman like voice reverberated through the air.

"Whom, dost thou dare to destroy my seal?"

"Whom, dost thou attempt in vain to pry into the secrets of the Fokke clan?"

"I sing of death; the indulgence of death, the dictator of death!"

"Ye doth deceive thine senses with vanities, but the onslaught of death is undefiable!!"

When that voice emerged, an awe-inspiring baffling ring echoed throughout the entire space of the gypsy tent. It was analogous to the booming flutter of a highly raised large flag.

Resembling an imperial tent, this gypsy had obviously employed a certain advanced space magic to expand the internal layer of this tent. Viewing from this perspective, it definitely contained an ability that could isolate the magic aura of this place.