The wind and rain had ceased over the lone island.
A figure hurried up from the shore. Barely reaching a large tree, he sat cross-legged on the ground and began circulating his power to regulate his breathing.
"Urgh..."
Yet the slightest stirring of his internal breath immediately sent mouthfuls of foul, dark-red blood spilling from his mouth.
Not only had Mr. Corpse's lips turned blue, but a bloody film had also seeped over his remaining left eye. A cherry-red tint spread across his index fingernail, lending him an eerie appearance.
He spat out not only blood, but also two small jade swords.
With his martial attainment, he could already control the movements of his stomach and intestines at will. Whether Sword Pellets or small swords, he could keep them suspended in his belly with his internal breath, nurturing them day and night with his spiritual intent until they developed extraordinary power.
But now that the deadly poison had entered his belly, his organs and muscles were beginning to slip out of his control. Unless he spat out these killing weapons in time, they would injure him instead.
"Pfft!"
Mr. Corpse spat out several more mouthfuls of foul blood, mixed with rotten flesh. By the end, wisps of deathly gray, noxious vapor even burst from his nostrils. His white-haired yet youthful appearance visibly lost its luster, like a withered piece of old wood, exuding a chilling aura of death. This battle had actually brought on signs of his cultivation dissipating.
Someone had blinded yet another of his eyes. His hatred was boundless.
His hair disheveled, Mr. Corpse felt the changes within him. He clenched his teeth so hard they shattered, all ten fingers digging into his palms. Yet at some point, a look of uncertain alarm crossed his face, before he