And it was hungry.
This was the , a Grade-3 alchemical construct. And it was hunting.
Ten paces. Five. Two.
She looked down at her hands. They were no longer the hands of a starving girl. They were the hands of a harvester.
Then it spoke. Not with a voice, but with a vibration: the creak of wet wood, the hiss of steam. Yet she understood perfectly. Xia Qingzi - The Demon Girl Juicing. Chapter 1....
The moon hung low and fat, the color of a blood orange. From the direction of the Sect’s inner mountain came a rhythmic, wet thump-thump-thump —like a giant’s heart being pounded in a mortar. Qingzi crouched behind a broken cauldron, her stomach clenching.
The press shuddered. For the first time in two hundred years, it tried to retreat. And it was hungry
But tonight, the thumping grew louder. Closer.