Hard teeth pierced the vessel's fragile skin without warning.
Yu Xing's teeth sank in. The instant he bit through the vessel's neck, the young man's own blood gushed out.
Warm, viscous liquid trickled between his teeth and into his mouth. Its scarlet hue wet his lips, and the blood that spilled from the corners of his mouth ran down his chin and dripped onto his collar.
For a moment, not a sound could be heard.
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the savage scene. The clergy were so shocked they couldn't put their feelings into words. Broken fragments of thought flashed across their minds, but they couldn't even form a coherent sentence.
A trace of fear crept into their eyes.
Yu Xing, the focus of everyone's attention, paid them no mind. At that moment, the taste he was experiencing made his scalp tingle.
It was delicious, certainly. The roots of the Ghost Tree loved this kind of filthy nourishment. But nourishment came in gentler and harsher varieties, and the "nourishment" formed by an Old God was a little too much for Yu Xing.
The blood-colored eye on the tip of his tongue gleamed in the blood. He tasted something both sweet and bitter, with faint, buzzing whispers mixed in—like countless insects burrowing into his brain.
Yu Xing's throat bobbed as he swallowed the mouthful of blood.
The warm fluid slid down his esophagus, bringing a strange burning sensation. The whispers echoed through his mind, trying to take root in his consciousness.
This was pollution made tangible.
But the sensation lasted only an instant.
A cold, rotten power surged from deep within his body, greedily welcoming the long-awaited meal and rising to meet it like gastric juices.
Black mist seeped from his body and coiled around the burning liquid. It diluted the sweetness