"Blood?"
The Vulture looked at his own fingers. That fishy, sticky sensation was all too familiar to him, yet he couldn't understand why the mirror was oozing fresh blood.
His Adam's apple bobbed. The Vulture, dazed, lifted his head. The vast workshop underground seemed to be enveloped by some force, and it felt as though an entire sea was suspended above him, pressing down to the extreme.
"I have never encountered such a situation before. What's wrong with this mirror?"
Feeling panic and unease, but knowing the ritual had to continue, the Vulture gently nudged his mask, his gaze wandering between the mirror and Han Fei.
The raincoat-clad Han Fei and the Han Fei in the mirror were clearly the same person, but they exuded two distinct auras. The ritual hadn't even officially started, yet there was already a problem.
Stepping back, the Vulture thought about the task Crow had entrusted to him, and, with great reluctance, he prompted Han Fei to lift his hand and touch the mirror.
