Qian Renxue (41)

Ares's figure shot like an arrow loosed from the string, charging first into that twisted dark red.

His charge had no flashy technique, only the purest strength and speed—the bone blade formed from ribs carved a pallid arc through the air, and wherever it passed, three Stitched Flesh Masses were sliced cleanly open. Viscous black fluid gushed from the cuts and splattered onto the scorched earth, hissing as it corroded.

But those monsters felt no pain and no fear.

The flesh masses that had been cut in half writhed on the ground, granulation tissue stretching from their severed edges as they tried to reconnect. Ares's tentacles followed immediately, wrapping, tightening, exerting force—squelch! The flesh masses were forcibly crushed apart, bits of meat and black blood flying everywhere.

"Their weakness is the head, or something like a core!" Ares roared, his voice almost drowned out by the storm of howls and wild laughter. "Destroy it completely, or they'll regenerate!"

Tang Wulin understood.

The Golden Dragon Spear trembled in his hand, as if it were craving something. He stepped forward, the golden dragon phantom charging with him, golden light blooming like the sun in this dark-red world.

The first wave to surge over was made up of beasts with only skeletons left.

Their bones were black as ink, and ghostly green flames burned in their eye sockets. They were extremely fast, making almost no sound as they ran across the scorched earth, only the clacking of bones rubbing together. A dozen or so pounced from different directions, sealing off every space for evasion.

Tang Wulin did not dodge.

The Golden Dragon King Bloodline boiled within him. He let out a low roar and swept his spear sideways. There was no technique, only strength—the purest, most savage power of the dragon race.

"Boom!"