Deep within the Bone-Eroding Forest, the air was so thick that a purple-black liquid could have been wrung from it. Stepping on the pustule-covered ground no longer produced a squelch, but rather a teeth-setting, mushy sound as if one were walking upon rotting internal organs. A brand-new silver-gray halo flowed over the Husky, its navigation trail condensing like solid mercury to point steadily straight ahead, carving a clear path through the thick, impenetrable demonic miasma.
Chen Mo followed closely, stepping high and low, moving with absolute caution to avoid the dark purple pustules that throbbed more violently, seemingly on the verge of bursting at any moment. The numbness in his ribs had indeed eased somewhat, but it had been replaced by a hollow, drained exhaustion, as if that extracted demonic Qi had also dragged away a portion of his already meager vitality and spirit. From time to time, he glanced down at the Sword Observation Manual resting quietly (or should he say, with a sense of satiated repletion?) against his chest; the faint dark purple patterns on the surface of the silk manuscript twitched like a living creature's blood vessels, looming faintly beneath the yellowed paper while radiating a cold and bloated aura.
"Lord Dog, let's make a deal," Chen Mo licked his dry lips, his voice exceptionally clear in the dead silence. "Next time you dine, can you pick something with a lighter smell? If I stay in this place much longer, I'm afraid my nose is going to …
Chapter 88