What's Going On, Little Brother?

Zhu Ping watched the emotions within that person surge uncontrollably.

That person's swollen belly was like a door or window on the verge of shattering.

Beyond that door and window, some colossal creature was frantically forcing its way in, squeezing the narrow opening out of shape and twisting it grotesquely.

The Three Arts Scholar had said the Federation had screwed things up. Now, that really did seem possible.

The Federation's original plan had likely been to use a token of the Gods and Devils to invoke their power and destroy the defenses of the Three Teachings.

And that object of the Gods and Devils was not some powerful token at all; it was fundamentally incapable of allowing a God or Devil to descend.

But the peculiar nature of the Outer Heaven had driven that God or Devil mad. It had used its own power to expand the token, forcibly turning it into some kind of vessel, all so it could descend.

The Federation soldier's belly continued to swell. Thick blood vessels burrowed out through the skin of his abdomen, dragging nearby corpses into his stomach as nourishment.

At the same time, the bluish smoke slowly gathered into a pair of eyes that stared fixedly at Zhu Ping. The smoke churned, producing faint sounds.

Less than a meter in front of Zhu Ping, a blood vessel was slowly creeping closer. Had he not regained his senses in time, those vessels would likely have pierced his body, dragged him into that belly, and sucked him dry.

Zhu Ping frowned at the disgusting sight. He raised a hand, grabbed a long torture needle from nearby, and coated it with internal force. With a flick of his finger, the iron needle shot forth, striking straight at that enormous belly.

Just as Zhu Ping had