The desolate land of the Tenth Source Clan.
After the tumult, there was dead silence, even the grey mist gradually dispersed.
The sound of dragging chains grew clearer; out of the thin mist, a figure suddenly emerged.
He was dragging a chain, wearing clothes made of grey human skin, his face wrapped in corpse cloth, but pieces of flesh were still trembling, as if about to shake off any moment.
Two pale eyeballs dangled on rotting strands of flesh, as if about to fall.
The Rotten Slave stood where the Great Lake once was, woodenly walking towards the Grey Mist Spring Eye.
"Grass seed..."
Seeing the Sand-stabilizing Grass seed rooted in the spring eye, the Rotten Slave's body suddenly started trembling, it reached out, tearing off its rotting ear, and threw it towards the spring eye.
In the spring eye, a grey arm flashed past, swatting the rotting ear away.
