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When the boss was in trouble, the underlings were bound to come running. The giant boars and the snake packs surged forward to support their bosses, slamming into the spider army.
Under the moonlight, the whole scene looked like a pot of boiling water: bodies churning, shadows colliding, hisses, squeals, and shrieks tangled into one feverish roar.
The onlookers halfway up the slope watched with their hearts in their throats. Once monsters truly went feral, humans had no part to play at all. They were spectators at best and breathing targets at worst.
But Tu Zhongli and his men were not watching. They seized the chance created by the three monster kings’ chaotic brawl and quietly made their way down the sinkhole, using exposed tree roots and hanging vines as their path.
They had barely started when Zhu Erniang, who had not suffered such humiliation in a long time, was driven into a genuine fury. Even while fighting, she forced herself to lift her head and spit several clusters of webbing toward distant trees.
The ancient trees around the sinkhole were at least seven or eight centuries old, colossal and majestic, trunks so thick that even several men could not wrap their arms around them.
Once her webs stuck fast, Zhu Erniang gave a savage yank.
And just like that, she dragged the entire writhing mass of monsters, including the other two demon kings, down into the sinkhole...
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