Meng Hao’s eyes flashed, and next to him, the mountain-like, fifteen-meter-long mastiff bared its razor-sharp teeth and glared about. A low growl rumbled in its throat, and a fierce look emanated from its eyes. Its huge frame, and its luxuriant, crimson fur, along with the sharp spurs which protruded from its bones, caused it to look shocking to the extreme.
Thunder rumbled in the sky, and lightning struck constantly, illuminating the land. Meng Hao’s body turned into a multicolored beam as he flew into the air, heading straight toward the ancient temple. Behind him, the mastiff let out a roar, and then followed him.
As soon as the two of them flew into the air, the outstretched hands within the sludge suddenly began to stretch out. In the blink of an eye, they had reached Meng Hao, and were about to grab him.
He let out a cold snort and slapped his bag of holding. The two wooden swords flew out, circling around him at high speed. Blood spattered out as approaching hands were immediately lopped off, before they could even get near Meng Hao.
Black blood spattered down like rain. A foul stench began to fill the air, and, in fact, this entire world. The mastiff’s body began to glow red. Not a single arm was able to touch it; they were instantly ripped into shreds.