The black gall-bladder nestled within Grand Preceptor Yan’s hollowed chest cavity tightened with a wet, convulsive burst.
The swollen organ turned slick and greasy, throbbing like a drowned heart as dark, putrid veins bulged across Yan’s collarbones, neck, and temples.
His jaw unhinged with a series of wet, tearing pops, the jaw joint cords snapping outward to accommodate the ugly dilation of his throat-pipe.
His throat stretched to the width of a wooden drainage pipe. He showed an inside lining coated in bubbling, pitch-black slime.
“Die!” Yan choked out, the word bubbling through thick, rotting black bile. “Dissolve into soup for the dragon!”
SPURRRRRRRT!
From the depths of that grafted demonic organ, Yan vomited a huge, high-pressure torrent of skin-burning black gall-acid.
The jet of fluid was five feet wide, surging across the marble steps with the speed of a burst dam.
