"Spit... it... out...!"
Chen Mo's hoarse, shattered roar sounded like the final struggle of a dying beast. Under the terrifying pressure of the Crystal Greatsword that froze time and space, it seemed so feeble, yet it carried a desperate madness!
Xingshuang's huge ears twitched instinctively. In its dim canine eyes, that trace of bewildered "You expect me to eat what Lord Dog just chewed?" was instantly overwhelmed by a more primitive, immense trust born of symbiotic instinct (or perhaps a fatalistic "to hell with it"). Screw it! The cleaner said spit it out, so spit it out! Anyway, this thing in its mouth was scalding hot and impossible to digest!
Chapter 147