Recommendation Tickets, please.
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Cold rain stirred the muddy blood in the puddles.
Xiong Mao Er leaned on his sword in the mire. Every labored breath tugged at his shattered chest, and pain that sank deep into his bones made his consciousness tremble.
Dark red mucus mixed with bubbles spilled from the tightly pressed corner of his mouth, only to be diluted by the rain and washed into the sludge.
Beneath the charred wounds on his body, residual power of thunder and fire burned and numbed him.
Blood and the lightning-fire attribute naturally countered each other, but the vast gulf between level 84 and level 91 had made him suffer a terrible loss.
In the muddy water, his knuckles twitched faintly.
At the center of the deep pit, the fifty-meter thunderfire giant stood like an ancient statue. Lava-like crimson-gold patterns flowed over its massive torso, and purple Thunder Serpents coiling around its body let out a low hum.
"Tang Feng, you old bastard—!" On the Martial Arts Viewing Platform, Chen Chen's voice pierced through the rain curtain, its ending already edged with severity. "You dare go for the kill? Does the Clear Sky Sect truly want this to end only when one side is dead?"
The roar echoed, yet it was like a clay ox entering the sea, swallowed without a trace.
The thunderfire giant's eyes were like solidified lava. Its massive hammer locked steadily onto the tiny figure in the mud, and its cold will condensed almost into substance—as if it meant to inflict the pain Tang Potian had suffered back upon him tenfold.
"Third move!"
"Eighth Soul Skill—World-Breaking Thunder Strike!"
The giant slowly raised its lava Thunder Hammer high with arms burning in thunderfire.
The collapsed point of light on the