Chu Feng slowly stepped forward and stood on the coffin lid.

"Hmph! I'll see what you really are!" Chu Feng muttered to himself, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Throughout his journey, he firmly believed that as his strength grew, the concept of ghosts and gods simply disappeared.

Those lofty gods are nothing more than the self-aggrandizement of the strong.

He didn't notice the moment Chu Feng stood on the coffin.

The white flag in front moved.

As if a gentle breeze had blown, the white banner fluttered softly.

"call-"

A bone-chilling cold blew by.

Chu Feng couldn't help but shudder.

"What happened?"

He murmured to himself that he had taken control of the timeline of the cursed hell.

Why is there wind?

In an instant, Chu Feng's heart pounded wildly, and an immense sense of fear rose from the depths of his heart.

He was like prey, being watched by something.

Fear originating from the soul, instinctive dread.

"Who? Who is it?"

Chu Feng looked around, his expression suddenly changing.

The middle-aged man carrying the white banner had somehow appeared in front of him.

"Holy crap!"

Chu Feng was startled and was about to retreat.

But the next second, the man suddenly stretched out his palm and went for Chu Feng's neck.

"Ominous! Extremely ominous! Retreat is the best course of action!"

With a thought, Chu Feng was about to return to the origin of time.

But the man's large hand instantly grabbed his neck.

A deep sense of suffocation rushed into my heart.

My palms were ice-cold, as if they had just been taken out of an ancient ice cellar.

At the same time, all the power within Chu Feng's body lay dormant.

No means could be used.

"I.....!"

His life was hanging by a thread, and he could clearly feel his vital energy constantly draining away.

He glanced around out of the corner of his eye.

The people dressed in mourning clothes slowly gathered around.

They stretched out their palms and reached out to grab Chu Feng.

"It's over!"