The moment he saw it, Wang Jianjun let go of everything else, his eyes only filled with this scene.

He saw his grandfather, saw his younger self, and everyone else, including Wen Yan, faded away.

He struggled forward in the increasingly thick and resistant air, madly lunging ahead.

His roars set off ripples that slowly spread forward before dissipating into the air.

Clearly within arm’s reach, yet he couldn’t get through no matter what.

His blood felt like it was burning, as if some power was beginning to drain out of it.

He reached forward frantically, like a drowning man just about to see the water’s surface, his hands began to show wounds, his skin seemed bruised.

As the blood seeped from the wounds, it spread like it would in water, turning into a blood mist.

The blood mist continuously spread, enveloping Wang Jianjun, but he didn’t care at all.

He instinctively knew this wasn’t an illusion; he knew it was real, knew it was a recreation of the tragedy from back then, with his grandfather and that little kid as his younger self.

As for why he was seeing it, he had no time to think about it.

His only thought now was to rush in and cover that little kid’s mouth.

A large amount of blood mist dispersed, drifting around him, reducing the thick air and great resistance here somewhat.

Wang Jianjun ignored his torn skin, shedding blood only hoping to be faster, and even faster.

The purest will, accompanied by a nearly kindling resolute determination, gave rise to those blood mists, slowly forming around him as totems and symbols.

Whenever a totem or symbol was formed, it would transform into a beam of blood light and re-enter Wang Jianjun’s body.

From this moment, if Wen Yan were to see a prompt again, he would notice the words "In Transition" had disappeared.

He charged forward frantically, with the resistance increasing, and the number of circling blood mist totems around him growing, Wang Jianjun’s movements slightly paused at this moment.

His view towards that little kid was blocked.

Wen Yan just happened to be there, obstructing his sight.

...

Old Master Wang’s Nuo Dance continued, as did the inexplicable pressure, without a trace of wavering.

Even with his grandson in someone else’s hands, even if that madman still had an Earth Hunting Rifle.

If Wen Yan hadn’t come, hadn’t candidly talked with Old Master Wang, the old man might not see through it and would truly hesitate.

But now, Old Master Wang knew he was already dead.

And in this world, his grandson had not only awakened but also came to Wangjia Valley, now the only thing Old Master Wang had to do was send Wen Yan away.

Old Master Wang continued his task, but those few young men couldn’t hold it any longer.

Even if not bewitched by ghosts, their youthful energy and a smooth-sailing life made them unaccustomed to such adversity.

That young man with a bandaged head immediately raised the Earth Hunting Rifle in his hand.

However, the next moment, his vision blurred, and the Earth Hunting Rifle disappeared from his hand.

A Gray Cloth wrapped around the Earth Hunting Rifle, coiling it up, and as Wen Yan pulled the Gray Cloth, the rifle twisted into a pretzel.

Wen Yan stepped forward, and one of them, whose face was pale with deep ghostly Qi invasion, immediately wrapped his arm around the little kid, grabbing him, his face ferocious.

"Look at who that is, say, who is that?"

The next moment, the Gray Cloth swiftly flew out, tightly encircling his head, continuously lengthening, binding the few young men together, expertly wrapping bodies with Gray Cloth.

Wen Yan walked forward, looking at the tearful little kid, holding up a hand to cover his own mouth despite a strangled neck, he reached out and patted the kid on the shoulder.

"It’s okay, don’t be afraid, it’s just a toy gun."

Wen Yan picked up the Earth Hunting Rifle, already twisted into a pretzel, his arm muscles immediately tautened, bending it, then casually tossing it aside.

Watching the young men on the ground desperately tearing at the Gray Cloth on their faces, Wen Yan also reached out and gently patted one of them.

"It’s okay, relax, dizziness is normal."

Listening to Wen Yan’s words, the struggling movements of the young men on the ground gradually calmed, lying there motionless.

Wen Yan held the child’s hand, waiting nearby, while the Gray Cloth swirled back, seemingly boasting of its accomplishment.

Wen Yan glanced at the people on the ground, already unconscious; even left unattended, with ghostly Qi and Yin Qi so deep within them, they wouldn’t live long anyway.

He continued to wait quietly, waiting for Old Master Wang to open the path back for him.

...

Wang Jianjun struggled desperately, charging forward, but before he got through, he saw Wen Yan easily subduing those young men, then speaking to the child about something.

Tears welled in the child’s eyes, holding up his hand to cover his mouth, his face still showing a hint of confusion.

Wang Jianjun couldn’t help it; tears fell from his face. He recognized Wen Yan as having eaten at his shop before.

He didn’t know why Wen Yan was there, but it didn’t matter.

He only hoped to stop that child from shouting something he shouldn’t.

The violently boiling blood mist around him also began to gradually calm down.

At this moment, the light falling from the stone walls on both sides grew brighter and brighter, and it seemed like a thunderclap exploded from behind.