Feng Chuncai fell to the ground, screaming.
Countless tiny demonic insects scurried through his veins and marrow. From the outside, one could only see the veins on his exposed skin bulge high, slithering like venomous snakes.
Feng Chuncai screamed, "Who is it?! Who the hell is it?! Ah! It hurts so much..."
He couldn't see Song Ciwan and had no idea where this assault was coming from. Victory had been within his grasp; he had been on the verge of killing that old fool—
Feng Chuncai was in too much pain to move. His abundant Qi Blood was useless, instead becoming nourishment for the demonic insects swarming his body.
Still, he forced his head up, looking toward the old hall master.
He saw the old hall master's third disciple, Xiao Shu, kneeling beside him, stuffing one Elixir after another into his mouth.
But the old hall master's body remained motionless. It seemed that even a massive quantity of Elixirs couldn't bring a dying man back from the brink.
