His injuries recovered faster than expected. By about half a day, the wound under his ribs had formed a thick scab, and the soreness in his right arm had mostly dissipated.
He stood up and stretched his muscles and bones, his joints making crisp, light cracking sounds.
He could continue on.
Bing Yekong gripped the Tianshuang Sword anew and strode forward along the bridge deck.
As the bridge deck extended forward, it gradually narrowed, shrinking from the initial width of one zhang to about seven chi. The magma on both sides also became more active, gurgling and bubbling. Occasionally, a tongue of fire would fiercely leap upward, brushing past the edge of the bridge deck and carrying a strong smell of sulfur.
After walking for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, Bing Yekong suddenly stopped.
He heard a sound.
A low hum came from far ahead, like countless wings vibrating at the same time, the frequency so dense that his eardrums swelled.
That sound grew closer and louder, quickly changing from a hum to a roar, like a dark cloud rapidly closing in.
Bing Yekong looked up.
On the dome ahead, a pitch-black mass was surging toward this side.
Those things were about the size of fists, dark red all over, with wings as thin as cicada wings that emitted high-frequency vibrating sounds when they flapped.
Their mouths had a sharp, tubular proboscis, the ends of the proboscis gleaming with a dim light, obviously used for sucking blood.
Vampire bats.
The number was too many to count, with a rough estimate of at least a thousand.
They pressed over from above the bridge deck like a living dark cloud, the dense sound of flapping wings completely drowning out the roaring sound of rolling magma.
Bing