So this is an abyssal demon…
Wang Chen's plain robe stirred in the cold wind, brushing against his legs as he stood before the village entrance. His expression was calm to the point of indifference, unshaken by fear—only an unspoken urgency glimmered behind his eyes.
Far ahead, six abyssal demons advanced through the mist, their movements oddly human yet disturbingly wrong. Their eyes burned with insatiable hunger, locking onto Wang Chen and Uncle Fang like predators sizing up trapped prey.
At first glance, they looked no different from ordinary villagers. Then one saw the truth—their bodies were grotesque amalgamations, as though two humans had been sewn together by threads spun from nightmare. One half of their faces was fresh and full of life, while the other was aged, shriveled, and dry like tanned hide.
The sight made Wang Chen's gut twist. He had to look away, bile rising as cold disgust rippled through him.
