CRUUUUUNCH—MUNCH, MUNCH!
Sitting cross-legged on the warm electric blanket atop the obsidian altar, three-year-old Ao Xing held a three-foot shard of his own black-silver eggshell like a giant tortilla chip and took a second enthusiastic bite!
Silver sparks of condensed spatial essence crackled around his rosy cheeks as he chewed.
“Merciful heavens! Little Fifth, spit that out!”
Grandpa Yao nearly leaped out of his alchemy robes, sprinting toward the altar steps with his hands waving in panic. “Brother Gu, stop him! Even though we washed the inner membrane with three hundred pots of milk tea, the outer layer of that shell was engraved for three centuries with the Heavenly Script Pavilion’s Siphon-Curse Runes!
If a three-day-old toddler swallows raw Upper-Realm curse-iron, it will give him terrible spatial colic and twist his dantian!”
Down on the floor, hog-tied Blood-Claw Demon General perked his bruised head up, a spark of desperate hope returning to his eyes. “That’s right! The outer shell is coated in our Blood-Sea Sect’s Corpse-Frost Sealing Lacquer!
Even a Rank 6 beast will vomit blood for seven days if it swallows that outer crust—”
