In that moment, anger and despair were luxuries Chen Bing and Chen Ding could no longer afford.
Their eyes held only boundless horror, as if the Death God himself had torn back the curtain on their fate.
The Earth Corpse's ashen face looked even more monstrous in the dim light as it slowly closed in.
Each step seemed to tread upon the fragile edges of their minds.
The Earth Corpse moved with exceptional agility, without a trace of hesitation or sluggishness.
It bent down, its fingers, covered in hideous scars, clamping down like iron tongs.
It gripped Chen Bing's blood-soaked, disheveled hair, pulling his helpless head toward its mouth.
Then, its sharp fangs plunged into Chen Bing's neck, bringing a bone-chilling cold.
It was like the bitterest winter wind piercing straight to the marrow.
Chen Bing felt an indescribable chill spread rapidly through his body.
His body heat was devoured by an invisible black hole, draining away at an alarming rate.
