The battle between the dead ghouls and the living ones wasn't as intense and exhilarating as imagined.
Zheng Qing watched those gaunt creatures with bare bodies, trudging through the grey dust of the hunting ground, like a group of old men fighting in slow motion, their movements sluggish and awkward.
They were making their own peculiar jibber-jabber sounds unique to Dreamland Ghouls, shoving and cursing each other, their rubber-like flesh showing great resilience under the claws and fangs of their peers, a stench mixed with the smell of corpses spreading over the entire hunting ground. For a moment, Zheng Qing felt that the real weapon of the ghouls was not their claws, but the aura they emitted.
"I'm a Dark Yellow Horse!"
"I'm a Horse Huan Hui Tui!"
"I'm a Horse Tu Yi!"
