The flames had spread to the inside of the den, and a series of animal shrieks could be heard.
Finally, a yellow weasel with its back on fire rushed out from the tree hole, seemingly attempting to escape through the bushes. Lu Hao, with quick eyes and quicker hands, condensed another small fireball and struck it.
The fireball spread across the whole body of the weasel, which let out a pitiful scream before it stopped moving altogether.
The weasel's yellow fur had been singed to a charred black; even the burnt skin underneath was exposed.
At this moment, the faint scent that had lingered also vanished. Local Tyrant Gold, who was dozing in Lu Hao's pocket, slowly awoke. Lu Hao, worried that it would fall while asleep, had stuffed it into his pocket.
Lu Hao crouched on the ground and looked at the dead yellow weasel. He sneered and said, "Quite the convincing act."
