The Cold Ice Silkworm, having drunk its fill of Zhao Lin's blood, wriggled contentedly and crawled toward a fissure in the grotto.
Its entire body was now flushed red with blood, swollen by a full size, and its movements had become sluggish.
THUD!
Zhao Lin stomped down on it, hearing a SQUISH as juices spurted from both ends of the insect.
'It's dead just like that?'
Zhao Lin froze, not expecting it to be so easy. 'Wasn't it incredibly vicious just a moment ago?'
Gently lifting his foot, he found the Cold Ice Silkworm had been stomped into a pulp, a messy paste of red and white fluids.
A moment later, an Essence Soul rose up.
"Looks like it's really dead."
Zhao Lin breathed a sigh of relief. He focused his gaze on it, only to see that this Essence Soul was completely different from the previous ones.
It wasn't rising as specks of silver light, but as silver threads that seemed almost tangible.
