The Six-Eared Black Dog panted through the blood-red mire with its tongue hanging out, looking somewhat miserable. Its fur had lost all luster, and bloody water dripped from its tongue with every ragged breath. Two of its ears had been split open, and its back was covered in wounds so deep that red muscle and white bone showed through. It had been swept by the aftermath of the enormous Cloud-Patterned Iron Rod and survived by sheer luck, but the destructive energy lingering in its body was difficult to purge. Every step hurt worse than the last.
It picked up half a charred Great Cultivator's corpse along the way. The black dog did not mind in the least, chewing up the meat and bones alike and swallowing every bit of it, but it was far from enough.
When it leaped and climbed up an earthen slope, the pain in its spine forced it to stop. Out of habit, it turned back and licked its wounds.
The residual energy was far too tyrannical.
It savagely damaged the flesh's ability to heal itself. The dog truly wanted to stop and rest, but it did not dare waste time for fear of punishment. After licking itself a few times to ease the pain slightly, it forced itself onward with the trail.
Then it suddenly sensed its master appearing soundlessly beside it. Terrified, it hurriedly lowered its head, trembling with fear that the whip would fall on it the next instant. The thought of that whip boring into its bones and injuring its soul made its entire body shake uncontrollably. The more it thought about it, the more terrified it became.
Just as the Six-Eared Black Dog shuddered and imagined the miserable pain to come, it suddenly caught a strange medicinal fragrance.
A hand extended