Leng Qianhu's fighting style was incredibly bloody. After he charged down, the two long sabers at his side flashed with a cold light. In the span of just two breaths, he had sliced all the mutated villagers in the center of the village to pieces.
There wasn't the spray of blood one might expect. When the mutated villagers were dismembered, the substance inside them was akin to charcoal. Only the "girl" on the altar was different. Her body, severed in two, was still writhing, and scorching magma seeped from the wounds. Furthermore, fleshy buds wriggled on the half of her torso still attached to her head, as if trying to grow a new body.
Wang Ping, observing all this from the sky, took out the Purgatory Banner and asked, "Fellow Daoist, have you ever encountered such a strange monster?"
