His limbs started to contract into what looked like weak claws. The color of his limbs slowly drained, and all his blood seemed to flow towards his abdomen, which turned crimson red. His facial muscles gradually contorted and streaks of blood emerged, quickly turning black and solidifying on his face.
The flickering flame illuminated his face. His facial features were grossly twisted, making him look like a murderous god that walked out of a mural. A soldier beside him who was holding on to the lighter was so shocked at the sight before him that his wrist trembled. The lighter almost fell, but Zhan Beiye caught it in time.
A cold chill crept up Meng Fuyao's spine as she watched the soldier suffering from the convulsions in pain. Watching his body getting bundled up, his weak limbs, and the group of creatures on the ground which had black coats and red bodies… Could it be, could it be…
