Above Lin Zhong Lake.
Translucent air twisted into distorted lines, forming a massive vortex; a pitch-black 'moon' sat stably at the vortex's center, devouring all those unrooted existences around it.
The young wizards by the lake, of course, had roots.
The law books in their hands, the nearby mentors, the octopus tentacles stretching out from Book Mountain Library, and even the old fishmen escaping from the lake, all worked hard to restrain the havoc of that black moon.
But they could prevent the students on the shore from being sucked in by the black moon, yet could not stop someone from voluntarily diving into it.
When Zheng Qing was captured by the vortex above Lin Zhong Lake, struggling and plunging into that black moon, angry shouts immediately echoed from the lakeshore.
Zhang Ji Xin's blue stone slab beneath his feet shattered with a roar, and the whole person shot like a cannonball towards that black moon.
