Ugh... it stank.
The moment Chen Yu entered, he sensed something was wrong.
The shack was thick with the sour reek of sweat, the pungent stench of excrement, and mineral dust. This pure mental assault was simply worse than a pair of size thirty-eight feet stomping back and forth on top of a Slime's head.
"I can't take it."
As expected, Chen Yu cut off the shared senses, leaving this "enjoyment" to the Little Fatty brothers.
The Nanny Brothers carried Little Fatty as they struggled through the dimly lit, cluttered gaps in the shack.
Pitch-black illusions covered them, turning them into two slowly moving ink stains that blended perfectly into the darkness of the corners.
Heave-ho, heave-ho...
After quite some effort, the two little fellows finally reached their destination—the shadows behind the dwarf shack.
At that moment, Anvil lay on a pile of filthy straw, his breathing seemingly faint. The little boy called Little John was sprawled beside him in exhaustion, already asleep, tears still streaking his small face.
Chen Yu looked at Anvil's mangled back and the wounds on his arms, which had already begun to swell and darken.
Even a dwarf with a robust constitution would find it difficult to hold on under unrelenting hunger, torture, and injuries this severe.
Especially in a filthy place like the mine, teeming with germs—within days, infection and sepsis could easily claim the dwarf's life.
Chen Yu controlled the Nanny Brothers to approach soundlessly. With a gentle hop, they landed in Anvil's callused, cracked palm.
The instant they touched him, a stream of pure life energy secreted from the gel, slowly seeping into the dwarf's body like a warm current.
In his dazed state, Anvil felt warmth spreading from his palm.
It was so faint, yet so tenacious.
Like the first flickering