All things have a lifespan, and in the eternity of ancient times, even death will vanish.
The melody of death that life cannot escape, except for those who are already dead—
Rotten monsters, they have no soul, no thoughts, like a group of tools, their existence depends on their own lifespan.
Lu Li squirmed his rotten, foul-smelling body and merged into a Rotten Den that once belonged to the Ghouls.
Seemingly like soft mud, irregular, grotesque-shaped rotten monsters heaped carelessly, indifferent to their companions crawling over them, only occasionally turning over or making sounds indicating they are in a dormant period.
They won't be at ease for long.
The "Mad Sorcerer Bloodman" brought news from the Blood Plague Tribe, indicating that the Ghouls were going to attack this Rotten Den.
Lu Li did not appear different from the rotten monsters, sluggish and slow like them, shrinking in a corner. The only difference was, while they rested, he waited.
