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Mark took advantage of Moloch's breathing gap and pounced forward, knocking Moloch to the ground. The fallen leaves on the ground were crushed by the bodies of the two men, making a slight "crackling" sound. Moloch was caught off guard and groaned under the sudden attack. The soft sword in his hand slipped out of his hand and fell into the grass beside him with a "clang". The sword reflected a cold light in the moonlight.

Mark rode on Moloch, his red eyes like two ghost lights in the dark, flashing with bloodthirsty light. He roared, swung his claws covered with black scales, and stabbed Moloch's throat fiercely. The sharp claws drew a black arc in the air, with a harsh sound of breaking through the air, like the sickle of the god of death, exuding a chilling breath of death. The surrounding trees swayed in the night wind, making a "rustling" sound, like the whisper of ghosts, adding a touch of horror to this bloody scene.

Moloch's eyes were fierce, and he raised his arm to block Mark's attack regardless of the sweet and fishy smell in his throat. The claws deeply embedded in his arm, and blood gushed out instantly, staining Moloch's clothes and Mark's claws red. The severe pain made Moloch's body tremble involuntarily, but he still gritted his teeth and did not utter a groan. He stared at Mark's red eyes full of murderous intent, and a strong desire to survive surged in his heart. Moloch endured the severe pain and raised his leg to kick Mark's abdomen. He used all his strength to kick Mark's abdomen firmly, making a dull "bang". Mark was kicked by this sudden attack and his body arched. He let out a painful roar, and his body fell backwards involuntarily, rolling on the ground for several rounds before stopping. Moloch took the opportunity to quickly get up, covering his injured arm, and staggered back a few steps. He glanced at the soft sword that fell in the bushes, and then at Mark who was struggling to get up not far away, with a hint of hesitation in his eyes. He knew that if he didn't take the opportunity to escape now, he would probably have no chance once Mark attacked again.

But he didn't choose to escape in the end. He took a deep breath, endured the severe pain in his arm, walked quickly to the soft sword, bent down and picked it up. He gripped the hilt, shook his wrist, and the soft sword made a "buzzing" sound, and the sword body flashed cold light in the moonlight. He took a defensive posture, staring at Mark vigilantly, ready to meet Mark's next wave of attacks.

Mark covered his abdomen and slowly stood up. The black scales reflected the cold light in the moonlight, like a demon from hell. His red eyes stared at Moloch, his eyes were full of fierceness and bloodthirstiness, like a beast staring at its prey, ready to launch a fatal blow at any time. The air around him seemed to solidify, full of tension.

Moloch's wrist shook, and the soft sword made a "buzzing" sound. The sword drew a silver arc in the air, dancing in the air like a spirit snake, exuding a dangerous atmosphere. He took a defensive posture, ready to meet Mark's next wave of attacks. The sound of wind in the forest, the rustling of leaves, and the heavy breathing of the two intertwined, forming a tense and weird picture.

"Roar!" Mark roared like a beast again, and his figure flashed, and he pounced on Moloch again.

Moloch's eyes were stern, and the soft sword in his hand danced like a dragon, rushing towards Mark...

Moloch's soft sword wrapped around Mark's arm like a spirit snake, trying to restrict his movements. Mark roared, and his other claws grabbed Moloch's shoulder fiercely. Moloch dodged sideways, and the soft sword wrapped around Mark's neck. He strangled Mark hard, trying to strangle Mark to death. Mark's claws left several bloody marks on Moloch's shoulders, but he ignored them and struggled even more frantically, trying to break free from the soft sword.

The bushes on both sides were tilted and swayed by their fierce fight. The sound of some dead branches breaking mixed with the two people's panting and roaring, which was particularly clear in the silent night. The night wind from the mountains blew past, bringing a few fallen leaves swirling in the air.

"Damn it!" Moloch cursed in a low voice. Mark's strength was beyond his imagination.

He felt the muscles in his arms trembling, and the hand holding the sword began to numb. Mark's struggle became more and more intense, and he was about to break free from the soft sword. Moloch gritted his teeth and pulled the soft sword down violently. The sharp blade cut a deep bloody mark on Mark's neck.

Mark let out a painful roar, his red eyes became more fierce, and his struggle became more intense.

Moloch's arm had begun to lose consciousness, but he did not dare to relax at all. He knew that if he let go, he would become Mark's prey. He took a deep breath, concentrated all his strength on his arms, and tightened the soft sword again.

Mark's struggle became weaker and weaker, and his breathing became rapid. His red eyes gradually dimmed, and his fierce eyes gradually turned into despair.

Moloch felt that the strength in his hand was reduced a little, and he knew that Mark was about to die. He pulled hard again, and the soft sword was deeply embedded in Mark's neck.

"Uh..." Mark let out a low whimper, and his body fell heavily to the ground, no longer moving.

Moloch let go of the soft sword, staggered back a few steps, sat on the ground, and gasped heavily. He looked down at the soft sword in his hand. The blade was covered with blood, which was particularly dazzling under the light of the fire.

"Lord Toby, Mark seems to have mutated!" Moloch reported to Toby through his soul. He is Toby's clone and has the ability to communicate with Toby's soul.

"Bring him back!" A deep voice sounded in Moloch's mind. It was Toby's voice.