Every vein in his neck and forearms rose to the surface, pulsing once with a dark light that chased itself down his body from crown to heel and vanished.
He exhaled through his nose.
His spiritual sense — already enormous by any orthodox metric, a cultivator who had consumed and refined enough living bodies to constitute a minor atrocity by himself — expanded outward. It moved in a single, silent pulse that passed through every tree and stone in the surrounding kilometer like a warm wind.
He felt his subordinates.
Two of them were still active, still working. He felt the familiar low-frequency resonance of feeding cultivators doing their job with the dull competence he expected.
Fucking the cultivator women like common sluts as they cried and moaned, bodies slapping together in the humid air.
*PAH PHACK PAH PHAAACK!!*
"Ahhnngh! Please— *nngh*—!" Their frantic, wet screams filling the air, mingling with the brutal sounds of flesh meeting flesh.
