C797 Insect Tide

On the outskirts of the Xiqi Poison Forest, Zhang Shihui's complexion was a ghastly shade of iron. His arm had been hastily wrapped up, resembling an oversized dumpling.

Standing beside Zhang Shihui were members of the Xiqi Poison Cult, who watched in silence as their comrade was pummeled. They knew better than to speak out of turn, understanding that Zhang Shihui was on the verge of exploding