All the werewolves stared with wide eyes, as this kind of ritual was something they had never witnessed before.
Before long, a faint blood light emanated from Lushan's body, and then the flesh on the ground was mysteriously melted, turning into a pool of viscous blood.
Lushan's voice became more high-pitched, and finally, with a thundering sound, that mass of viscous blood exploded, transforming into a gigantic blood-colored wolf head, howling in a certain direction.
At that moment, Lushan finished his ritual dance, and the wolf head transformed into countless blood drops, scattering onto the ground, which brought a pang to Tarbert's heart.
"The Evil God should be in that direction. That's north." Lushan looked toward the direction the wolf head had howled.
At the same time, Stefan grabbed Borgia and the other two, biting into their necks and taking a few gulps of blood.
The bodies of the three were stiff, standing motionless, not daring to resist.
