At this point, the leader of the Spring Guest Flood Dragons suddenly sensed something wrong.
By the time he realized something was amiss.
It was already too late.
He clutched his neck.
All was lost.
He opened his mouth wide in agony, and blood mixed with living centipedes poured out of it.
No matter how many spells you possessed.
Under these circumstances.
You could not cast a single one.
Centipedes streamed from his Seven Apertures, ruthlessly burrowing through his skin.
By the look of him, he would not survive.
The important question was.
When had he been hit?
The Spring Guest Flood Dragons were seasoned veterans themselves.
Even their firelight had its own special properties. Ordinary zombies, vicious Ghosts, and even uncanny beings of the Underworld could not see anyone within that green light.
But now.
Everything had changed.
None of their spells.
Here in the South Seas tombs at night.
Had any effect.
Their leader died in an instant.
At the sight.
Everyone was horrified.
"Don't go over there."
Everyone was terrified. Someone sent paper figures over, only for countless centipedes to appear on them as well, crawling brazenly through their bodies.
Pustules erupted on those controlling the paper figures. They instantly turned translucent, and pale yellow pus flowed out.
Centipedes crawled out of their bodies.
The ground gave way.
Some enormous creature burst out from beneath their feet.
And devoured these "corpses."
Their lives were snuffed out in an instant!
Not even their bones remained.
Death came without rhyme or reason.
The nights of the South Seas.
Were unimaginably brutal.
As people died, the smell of blood seemed to draw even more horrors. Bleating came from the darkness.
On this small island.
The sound of sheep made no sense.
Sheep?
"Run!"
When "Lin Feng" heard that sound.
His