This Evil Fetus was both familiar and strange.
It resembled a pitch-black infant, somewhat like the one Mo Hua had slain before, but clearly larger. Its limbs were more grotesquely deformed, its aura more chaotic, mixed with no one knew how much resentment, bitterness, and malice.
At that moment, it stared coldly and viciously at Mo Hua.
Mo Hua stared back at it.
Within the pitch-black, filthy Nightmare, a golden figure and a grimy-black Evil Infant faced each other in silence.
After an unknown length of time, the Evil Infant's expression suddenly turned savage. It opened its mouth full of serrated teeth, its eyes blood-red, and pointed its right hand at Mo Hua as strange sounds murmured from its mouth.
Mo Hua frowned. Just as he wondered what it intended to do, black mist surged around him and blood-colored tremors rippled through the air.
The ground bulged everywhere. Black Water condensed and manifested into one human figure after another.
The figures resembled Demons, but upon closer inspection, they were not "Demons" at all. They were true "people"—one miserable victim after another.
Their clothes were ragged, their limbs severed, their faces streaked with blood and tears. Enslaved and controlled, brimming with endless resentment, they struggled as they crawled toward Mo Hua.
Hand after hand seized Mo Hua. Mouth after mouth bit into his body.
Excruciating pain struck him.
This was not merely pain of the flesh. It seemed to carry the oppression and torment countless cultivators had suffered in life, as well as the sorrow and despair they had endured in death.
Mo Hua's expression changed. He pressed two fingers together and pointed, yet no Fireball appeared at his fingertips.
With a movement of his divine sense, no Array Technique formed around him. When he clenched his palm, no sword of