"Pain! So painful! Too painful!"
Mo danced with his hands and feet, instinctively hugging the Nine Deaths Cicada that had pounced on him.
Enraged, the Nine Deaths Cicada's scythe-like front limbs pierced directly through Mo's stomach, while its side appendages sliced open hundreds of bloody gashes around his waist.
"A thousand cuts and scrapes? I love it! More, give me more!"
Mo's entire body trembled, his face twisted with pleasure, embodying the very definition of "climax."
He triggered the "Pain Pointer" again, sharing his own pain.
This miraculous limit skill had two use cases.
Either strip the pain from the enemy and graft it onto oneself,
or share one's own pain, making the enemy feel it too.
Back and forth, Mo was always the happiest one.
But as its combat opponent, the Nine Deaths Cicada was in bad luck.
Suddenly, it spat out foam, then convulsed like it had epilepsy, and vivid cracks appeared in its dull compound eyes, as shocking as broken pearls.
