The agony of a posterior shoulder popped joint was not a sharp, clean cut.
It was a deep, nauseating, tearing ache that radiated from the armpit straight into the main spine nerve, setting every nerve bundle on fire while paralyzing the surrounding muscle groups in violent, locked spasms.
Lin Ke was on his knees in the limestone scree.
His right arm dangled limp against his ribs, three inches longer than normal, the shoulder contour flattened into a sickening, hollow depression.
The brain blood loss from the magnetic Dai Mai solenoid hadn’t cleared. His vision was a murky, shaking tunnel of charcoal-grey static, his ears ringing with the high, thin whine of a sound flashbang.
Across the boiling red lake, Chi Lian saw it.
The demonic commander’s mutated form surged through the geyser of falling blood, the cut blood-jade core having triggered a primal, hungry frenzy in his blackened mind.
“The clerk is broken!” Chi Lian shrieked.
