"Huff, huff!"
Under the gloomy heavenly curtain, ravines stretched across the land. Zhao Shiluo rolled far away, not stopping until he tumbled into a narrow depression in the ground. There, he lay on his back, chest heaving rapidly, taking great gasps of air.
At this moment, his lips were blackened, his eyes were tinged green, and a more than a foot-long wound had been torn open in his abdomen. Pus and blood unceasingly gushed out, and from deep within, the darkened sheen of his intestines was faintly visible.
The persistent stench of pus from his wound could attract zombies from the surrounding area at any moment.
Since entering the Purgatory Map, Zhao Shiluo had initially been very lucky, decapitating two waves of walking corpses in succession. But later he had an unexpected encounter with an iron armor corpse.
Zhao Shiluo, who had become an Innate Martial Artist just a few years ago, was no match for the iron armor corpse.
