Chapter 8: Loss of Humanity

Lin Feng's dragon claws tore the last soul chain, and the cold abyss has become a bloody ice cave. Murongqiu's body was nailed to the icicle, and the "sisters" in the nine ice coffins turned into corpses and scattered. The head of the elder of the holy land was broken under his feet, and his eyes were still frozen in fear. The ice flame of the underworld roared in the meridians, and the roar of the blood dragon soul flooded all reason.

"It's not enough... to kill it all... to calm down..." He whispered, and the dragon's wings ran over the survivors' howl.

The green kite's blood escape charm ran out of energy and fell from the void. She wiped away the blood on her lips, and the copper coin horoscope was completely chaotic - Lin Feng's fate disappeared, replaced by a black hole that swallowed the heavenly machine.

"It's time to play." She smiled bitterly, but pulled out a bloody copper coin from her sleeve. "Fortunately, I never bet only."

The clouds were suddenly illuminated by fire, and three thousand flying boats descended the pillar of light. The hatch opened, and all the people who came out were "Murong Xue" - Shengxue in white, with gentle eyebrows, and only the pupils were mechanically golden.

"Mother..." Lin Feng's dragon scales trembled violently, and the ice flame froze half of the sky out of control.

"Target locked." Three thousand pseudo-dragons opened their mouths in unison, and the palms of their palms lit up with a sealed silver needle, "Kill the heretic."

The first wave of silver needles hit like a torrential rain, and Lin Feng did not avoid it. The moment the tip of the needle touched the dragon scales, he saw the small words engraved on the tail of the needle clearly: [Give Feng'er's fifth birthday - Mother].

The ice flame suddenly went out.

The attack of the pseudo-dragon clan penetrated the dragon scales, and Lin Feng staggered to his knees. Not because of pain, but those memories on the needle - the sugar man on his five-year-old birthday, the cotton jacket on the seven-year-old winter night, and the soup when he was seriously ill at the age of ten... are all false memories imported by these clones.

"They... are not mothers..." He crushed the dragon-shaped brand on his chest and pulled out half a silver needle in the blood. "But you... don't deserve to use her face!"

The blood dragon soul and ice flame fused for the first time! The dark purple dragon breath swept the battlefield, and the pseudo-dragon clan vaporized in the wailing. However, every time a clone is destroyed, Lin Feng's pupils are cloudy. When the last "Murongxue" dissipated, his right arm had completely turned into a dragon, and the blood dripping from his fingertips eroded into the abyss.

"Wonderful, but wasteful." There was a joking applause. A merchant in a star-patterned robe came out of the ice fog. His feet did not touch the ground, and there were eighteen weapons suspended behind him - the blade of the sword carved dragon scales, and the bow body wrapped in reverse scales, all of which exuded the smell of dragon-killing.

"Dragon-killing arsenal, in exchange for your three drops of blood." The merchant flicked his fingers and inserted a dagger into Lin Feng's feet. "Or continue to go crazy and become the spirit of my next weapon."

Qingyuan suddenly appeared, and the copper coin array locked the merchant's throat: "The incarnation of heaven also came to take advantage of the fire to rob?"

The businessman smiled, and his body was scattered into stardust and reorganized in another place: "The little crow in the Destiny Pavilion, your master has never taught... The one who peeks at the sky will eventually become chess?"

Lin Feng's dragon claws penetrated the merchant's shadow, but grabbed a jade jian engraved with his mother's handwriting: [Feng'er, if I see this Jian, my soul will be destroyed. Don't believe in the way of heaven, don't look for the truth - Mother's best pen.]

The jade shack exploded, and the poisonous spell invaded the heart! Lin Feng's seven tricks gushed out black blood, and the dragonization accelerated to spread. The businessman has long disappeared and only left a word in the air: "The dragon-killing arsenal remains in the cold abyss... When you are desperate enough, it will look for you."

Qingyuan grabbed Lin Fenglonghua's wrist and pressed the blood-colored copper coin into his heart: "Wake up! Are you going to become a monster to complete the prophecy of the Holy Land?!"

Murong Xue's last smile appeared on the copper coin - it was a memory fragment stolen from the heavenly path by Qingyuan with forbidden magic. Lin Feng's vertical pupils suddenly contracted, and the dragon claws hung an inch between the throat of the green kite.

"Why...save me?" His voice is mixed with dragons.

"Because..." Qingyian held his ferocious claws, "Like you, I am a raised sacrifice."

In the depths of the ice fog, the surviving remnants of the pseudo-dragon clan suddenly resonated and assembled into a thousand-mile dragon corpse - the ultimate weapon of the holy land [Tiandao Dragon Puppet], and woke up.