The woman writhed like a hedgehog full of spikes, blood dripping from her lips.
Her wings on her back disintegrated and she fell from the sky, light as a feather. She looked like a kite whose line had been cut.
In the midst of a mud and water puddle, there she was, bleeding and gasping her last breaths.
"Damn, evil monster, die!" shouted one of the cultivators, filled with fear, as he closed his eyes and continued running towards Luan.
Luan let out a buzz of contempt. His eyes were red, with a mystical aura. He pointed his left hand in the direction of the werewolf, and a tree trunk emerged, opening into hundreds of branches at the tip.
The rain fell heavily, the drops being pierced by branches, leaving them wet and heavier. Luan's sharp eyes did not falter; in fact, this was his plan from the beginning.
