Shen Qingzhu sat before the mountain wall, clutching his wound as his mind raced. The terrain from their recent escape flashed through his head one after another as he searched for a way to break through the demons' blockade and leave this place.
Just then, Shen Qingzhu felt his palm growing increasingly itchy. He scratched it twice without thinking, then suddenly sensed that something was wrong and raised that hand before his eyes, spreading it open.
His pupils abruptly contracted!
A thumb-sized lump of flesh had somehow grown in the center of his left palm.
Soaked in the blood in his palm, the fleshy lump writhed slightly, as though something was about to burst out of it. The itch was unbearable.
The lump had grown exactly where the ash falling from the sky had touched his palm earlier.
As it gradually grew and writhed, faint murmurs began to sound by Shen Qingzhu's ear. Though they were as soft as mosquitoes, their appearance still made his heart skip a beat!
"Cthulhu?!"
Having dealt with the Red Moon in Fishing Village, he naturally knew what those murmurs meant. A sharp glint flashed repeatedly through his eyes. Ignoring the fatal wound at his waist and abdomen, he swiftly scrambled to his feet!
A vicious look flashed across his face.
Snap—!!
A crisp snap rang out. The surrounding air rapidly compressed into a thin, invisible blade. As the blade rubbed against the air, streams of scorching flame flowed forth and clung to its edge.
With a slight hook of Shen Qingzhu's fingertip, the air blade aimed at his left hand and slashed down without hesitation.
A muffled groan of pain sounded, and half of his hand fell to the ground.
The flames attached to the blade temporarily cauterized the wound, preventing excessive blood loss.