Gelid, toxic sludge, thick as venom, saturated Chen Mo’s skin from the waist down. The cloying reek of rust, machine oil, and an indefinable putrid decay congealed in his nostrils and throat like tangible glue. Within the narrow crevice formed by colossal, discarded valve carcasses and pipe remnants, darkness pooled thick as congealed ink. Only the distant, ruptured conduit—still spewing scalding steam and turbid geysers—provided a backdrop of sound: the hoarse bellow of a dying leviathan, the hiss of escaping vapor, and Hu Qiang’s wounded-beast roar, tearing through the mist!
“CHEN MO—!! YOU CAN’T ESCAPE! I’LL DIG YOU OUT! GRIND YOUR BONES TO DUST—!!!”
The voice ricocheted within the cavernous subterranean space, each echo amplifying its bone-deep malice and incensed savagery! Ever
