It was three or four times larger than an ordinary turtle, its heavy shell stained a deep, dull blood-brown.
Dark, cracked patterns covered its scutes, like dried riverbeds, with thick, dark red blood constantly seeping from the fissures.
The blood dripped onto the ground, corroding tiny pits into it, white smoke still rising from them.
A ring of sharp bone spikes of varying lengths jutted from the shell's rim.
A layer of blackened, rotten flesh also sprawled across the shell, with several pus-filled blisters bulging amid it, quivering as though something inside was breathing.
Its limbs were short, thick, and cumbersome, and it crawled extremely slowly.
Every movement took several minutes.
Its joints creaked and groaned like a rusty iron gate opening and closing.
Wherever it crawled, it left a sticky trail of blood that reeked to high heaven.
Its head protruded from its shell, without eyes.
Where its eyes should have been were two pitch-black hollows, faint gray mist drifting out of them.
The gray mist rose, gathering into a small cloud above its head before the wind scattered it.
Its mouth split wide, stretching from one side of its head to the other, nearly dividing the entire head in half.
Its mouth was packed with tiny, sharp teeth, like a row of broken glass.
It let out one muffled "hurh, hurh" after another.
The sound squeezed out from deep in its throat, accompanied by the noise of bursting bubbles.
Slow movement, high defense.
Anyone who got close would be pinned beneath its heavy body, and the gaps in its shell could also spray blood mist laced with corrosive poison.
An ordinary practitioner of sequence transcendence would struggle against even one, let alone a whole group.
But Yang Yong thought nothing of them.
He flicked his wrist, and just