Smack!
Smack! Smack!
One Ogre after another had its chest explode, dark-red blood gushing forth. Amid the brittle, rapid cracks of thunder, it made a clear gurgling sound. Shrouded in magic, it surged, spread, and flowed beneath every Ogre's feet like living dark-red Ouroboros, linked head to tail as they outlined one inverted pentagram Magic Circle after another.
In mysticism, the inverted pentagram had always been considered a symbol of evil and Satan.
The patterns beneath the Ogres' feet were even more steeped in an eerie, fallen sensation. Just one glance made Zheng Qing feel short of breath, as though bloody skulls with ram heads were struggling to crawl upward from those Magic Circles, their curved horns braced against the Ogres' joints. Their bodies were pulled and twisted by an invisible force, continually infused with mad power pouring forth from the unseen.
Gan Ning's expression changed abruptly.
He sensed traces of the professor's concoctions in that power.
Professor Monteria had always believed that practice outweighed theory. More often than not, he did not hesitate to conduct experiments even when the theory was unclear. That urgency was one reason he was admired and liked by so many young wizards in the laboratory. After all, young people had little patience and possessed an ignorant, reckless courage toward the grave consequences illegal experiments might bring.
The mad aura lingering around those Ogres was something he had felt at the professor's experiment table before. He remembered it very clearly. It was a tremendously powerful force, but one that was utterly uncontrollable.
The Magical Creatures selected by the laboratory—from tiny eight-legged spiders and Corpse Beetles to Fish Women in the water, Gu Diao in the sky, common Red-banded Snakes, rare Night Steeds, and so on—not one could bear that power. The best-performing Behemoth melted after