"Ah..."
Old Zhang let out a sigh of ultimate satisfaction. In his hallucination, he felt as if he were embracing the entire world.
In reality, however, his fingernails grew crazily long and turned black, then plunged deep into his own carotid artery.
An expression of extreme, twisted bliss spread across his face as he greedily tore at his own flesh and blood.
No blood spurted out.
The gushing blood seemed bound by an invisible force, transforming into fine threads that flowed backward into Mo the Third's sleeve.
Old Zhang's body convulsed violently in extreme bliss, his skin shriveling and turning a ghastly white at a visible rate.
In just half a minute, a living, breathing person had become a horrifying, desiccated corpse, a blissful smile still plastered on its face.
Mo the Third stood up and licked his lips, a look of intoxication on his face.
"The Life Force of the young, mixed with the taste of hope... truly sweet."
