Chapter Seventy-Eight: Uncanny

“Cheng Daoming!”

At that moment, a voice echoed from the rear courtyard.

Upon hearing it, a middle-aged inscription master stood up.

“Go in.”

The servant who delivered the message glanced at Cheng Daoming and nodded.

After the middle-aged man entered, the door connecting to the inner chamber was closed.

Not long after, a cry of pain resounded from within.

The man emerged with a pale face, looking dazed and lost, as if his soul had been stripped away. He said nothing and left the estate.

Even when acquaintances greeted him, he gave no reply.

“What’s going on?” Xu Feng frowned.

“Gao Ming!”

“Here!” replied an inscription master seated beside him.

Yet, because of Cheng Daoming’s ordeal, his expression was far less relaxed than moments ago.

This caused him to endure only slightly longer when he entered.

But in the end, he too cried out in pain and then rushed out like a madman.

“What’s really happening?” At last, someone spoke up. If this was merely a test of inscription mastery, the situation was already abnormal!

“Master Zhao has his own methods of assessment. Those men simply weren’t up to the task, so they couldn’t withstand it.”

“All right, next—Zhen Huanzhong!”

“Where’s Zhen Huanzhong?”

Everyone exchanged confused glances.

After a short while, someone in the crowd snorted coldly. “He said he forgot something and went back.”

“Hmph, useless!”

The messenger sneered, then said, “Next is Tian Feng!”

Tian Feng stood up with a grim expression and followed the messenger inside.

From start to finish, Tu Lu’s gaze remained fixed on the servant delivering the messages.

At first, he hadn’t paid much attention, but after hearing a few words, the more he looked, the more convinced he became… this was Zi Tuofeng!

Still, he forced himself to suppress the urge to act.

Even if he tried, there was no guarantee of success here; and even if he succeeded, he would never escape afterward!

Not to mention seizing the estate owner’s essence for Zi Ling.

To him, that was the highest priority.

But to everyone’s relief, this time no cry of pain was heard.

After a while, Tian Feng walked out, his face ashen and gray, shaking his head as he went, clearly in poor condition.

“Master Tian, what is going on?”

“Could it be that the one surnamed Zi deceived us?”

“Who is this Zhao, really? What does he want from us?!”

A swarm of people surrounded him.

Tian Feng was one of the few true inscription masters among them; if even he failed, how could the rest succeed?

Suddenly, Tian Feng seemed to snap out of his stupor. He cast a complex glance back inside, then looked at the crowd.

“The method is sound. It’s just that what Master Zhao seeks far surpasses anything we imagined. Anyone who feels their inscription skills are below mine, I advise you not to get involved. It will do you no good.”

“What do you mean, Master?”

“Explain! What happened in there?”

People clamored for answers.

But Tian Feng only shook his head and said nothing more.

Most of the inscription masters exchanged uncertain glances, hesitating.

“Ahem, everyone, I just remembered I have an urgent commission to finish for a client. I’ll be heading back.”

“Me too—there’s a magical artifact still absorbing light, and I need to check on it before my apprentice ruins it!”

Most found excuses and left in quick succession. Of dozens, only a handful remained.

Aside from a few inscription masters who considered themselves more skilled than Tian Feng, the rest were those with absolute confidence in their abilities.

“All right, next—Xu Chen!”

A young man brimming with confidence strode inside.

But moments later, he lasted even less time than Cheng Daoming, running out in agony.

The messenger followed, his face dark and brooding, as if something had infuriated him.

“Next, Tu Lu!”