Sunny stood perfectly rigid. Splinters of jagged bone and corrosive, dark-purple sludge coated the stone.
A low-tier Shadow-Viper had just been detonated by an unstable dark ritual, and the resulting splatter of necrotic matter was disgusting.
Internally, Sunny was experiencing a massive wave of nausea. He desperately wanted to pinch his nose to block out the putrid stench of melting flesh.
The stress of constantly navigating this cutthroat demonic sect was giving him a permanent, throbbing headache. He was completely exhausted, physically weak, and entirely unequipped to handle the gruesome realities of a slaughter-cult.
However, he could not show a single fraction of that internal weakness. In the Demonic Path, displaying discomfort was an open invitation for a dagger in the back.
Therefore, Sunny projected his innate villainous aura to its maximum capacity, allowing a suffocating, heavy pressure of dark Qi to roll off his shoulders in thick waves.
