â....â
â....â
For a moment, silence passed between us. Under the gradually setting sun, I locked eyes with Mongmong.
Crack.
The pressure on my neck seemed to intensify, but there was hesitation in his grip.
[Not true� Really, not true?]
Mongmong asked again, his voice carrying the same strange sensation as before.
My heart tingled slightly at his words.
âYes. Itâs not true.â
I repeated my answer, just as easily as the first time.
It came out without the slightest resistance.
What was this?
Wasnât this supposed to be like Dragon Speech?
The sensation reminded me of the power Blood Demon had once used on me, but the results were entirely different.
It barely grazed me and didnât have any significant effect.
âAre you really not lying?â
He asked again, his tone growing more insistent.
What was I supposed to say?
âI said Iâm not,â I replied, letting a hint of irritation creep into my voice.
His expression shifted. His eyes held a strange confusion, as if the situation didnât make sense to him.
He fell silent again.
Whatâs he going to do now?
The pressure on my neck remained, unrelenting.
Should I just push him off and counterattack?
It was a tough decision.
I glanced at Cheonma.
Her eyes showed a faint determination, as if she were debating whether to step in.
If this kept up, things would go from bad to worse.
Voom.
I tensed my chest, preparing to break free of Mongmongâs grip whenâ
Srrrk.
The hand around my neck loosened and pulled away.
His beastly arm shrank back, returning to the slender, pale limb it had been before.
Rustle.
The debris from the shattered wall scattered to the ground, and I found my feet back on solid earth.
Rubbing my sore neck, I brushed the dust off my clothes.
âThis is strange⦠why isnât it true?â
Mongmong muttered, seemingly to himself.