Lu Chen lay on the ground, staring at it.
"The mark... is gone too."
Lu Chen said nothing.
The lump of flesh slowly moved toward Lu Chen.
It moved slowly, yet every step carried it several zhang. Within a few breaths, it had reached him.
It lowered its head—if the uppermost part of that mass of rotten flesh could be called a head—and stared at Lu Chen with its largest eye.
"You think you're free now that the Dragon Soul Mirror and the mark are gone?"
Lu Chen's face was reflected in that eye. Pale, covered in blood, and weak to the extreme.
"No. You've merely become weaker. And I—"
It extended its thickest tentacle. The tip split open, revealing a mouth full of fangs.
"I have never needed a mark to kill you."
The tentacle's mouth bit down at Lu Chen's head.
A figure charged in from the side and slammed into Lu Chen, sending him flying.
The tentacle's mouth bit empty air, then clamped down on the ground and tore off a massive chunk of brick and stone.
Lu Chen was flung three zhang away. He rolled across the ground several times before coming to a stop.
He turned and saw that the person who had rammed into him was rolling as well—Tuoba Shan.
His left arm was completely ruined. The strip of cloth that had held it up had flown away somewhere, and broken bone jutted through his flesh, white and ghastly.
But he was still alive.
He climbed to his feet, dropped to one knee, gripped his giant axe in his right hand, and flashed Lu Chen a grin.
"I said I'd hold out for one incense stick. And I did."
Lu Chen looked behind him.
Of the three corpse generals on the left, two had