Mo Ling instantly understood. The hostility came from the Pangolin before him.
The intense hostility, sharp as a needle, pierced Mo Ling's tiny body. It was the crushing pressure of a superior species, the contempt of a creature higher up the food chain.
A chill spread through Mo Ling's entire body. He was just a fly and shouldn't have been able to feel anything, yet that chill pierced straight to his soul.
The scorching magma flowed endlessly, but the fly's body grew stiff, chilled to the bone.
Mo Ling fought back his discomfort and fled backward.
But as he moved, the death countdown suddenly dropped by several seconds.
It had been nine seconds; in the blink of an eye, it was four!
'It's getting shorter and shorter!'
The chill intensified. The red lizard's cold eyes held the contempt of a superior being and the coldness reserved for prey.
Danger!
