Lingluo leapt back as the dragon bellowed, the sound rolling across the battlefield like thunder tearing through bone. Yu Xuan too retreated, grimacing as the roar was heard in his ears.
The dragon's burning red eyes fixed on him with murderous hate.
Its massive frame lifted, the upper body rising into the air while the lower half, which Yu Xuan had cleaved apart, writhed unnaturally. Crimson threads of blood stretched outward, latching onto the severed flesh.
Yu Xuan struck with his sword, but his blade only carved through liquid gore before it reformed.
The blood poured back into the dragon's body, its own spilled essence greedily reclaimed. With a wet, sickening sound, the sundered halves fused again.
Yu Xuan's eyes narrowed.
"Is it… immortal?" he muttered.
But then he noticed: the ground was still slick with leftover blood, blood the dragon hadn't absorbed. Its movements were slightly sluggish, its aura just a little dimmer.
Not immortal. Just stubborn. And weakened.
