"The abdomen of the eight-legged Spider."
At that moment, Lin Feng was the only living "person."
He secured the head of the Gamalang and those of all the previous Gamalangs, hanging them on his body so he could take them with him when he left.
Not as trophies.
He was a postman.
Nothing more.
He had not killed the Gamalang himself. The Gamalang had smeared blood all over his own body, used his secret art one last time, and stuffed earth into Lin Feng's Seven Apertures, leaving only his eyes uncovered.
He begged Lin Feng to leave and asked him to promise him one thing.
In his despair, the Gamalang had ordered the tribespeople around him to hold off the enemy for a moment. Using the timing and causes of their deaths to discern the demons' hunting patterns, he begged "Lin Feng of Great Ming" to survive and carry the truth about Dora Mahā back to the tribe, so their deceived kinsmen would stop coming here to die.
There was no treasure here.
There were no ancestral remains here.
There were only demons and Vengeful Ghosts everywhere, and a seal on the verge of failing.
Those Vengeful Ghosts were like humanoid Niu. Their claws were sharper than a Niu's horns, their stamina greater than a boar in rut, and their cruelty worse than a starving Giant Python's.
His people were no match for these Evil Ghosts!
After leaving, Lin Feng was to bring his head and those of all the previous Gamalangs back and give them to the next Gamalang.
To complete the passing down of wisdom!
Wisdom was the treasure every generation of Gamalangs needed.
It was the spiritual core that allowed a people to endure.
"Our souls will follow the Gamalang we trust, giving him courage and strength