Crap, I feel like I'm about to die, Feng thought as the poison rampaged through his body.
Green blotches spread across his skin, and each breath burned in his chest.
Even the blood he coughed up sizzled on the ground, thick with emerald poison.
Feng looked up, locking eyes with Yi Bei.
The other cultivator glared back, his gaze filled with killing intent.
But if you looked closely, past the anger, you could see it—
Fear. He was afraid.
"Damn it! Isn't this guy only at the sixth level of Qi Condensation? How is he so strong?!"
Yi Bei spat out more blood, his face pale as the wounds on his body piled up.
Beast-Type Cultivators were supposed to have stronger bodies—but even among them, there were limits.
And Feng was pushing him past those limits.
"I don't know where you came from, brat, but clearly you're no nobody.
