Cultivation with a System in the Modern World
It hummed with lethal intent.
Zyler’s momentary fear melted into a wide, twisted grin. His chest heaved with excitement as he flicked his right arm, and the tendrils writhed violently, twisting and condensing into the shape of a grotesque, fleshy sword—black, pulsing, and jagged like a spine ripped from a monster. With a delighted chuckle, he flicked his other arm, and the tendrils formed into a massive axe, misshapen and uneven, oozing a faint black mist.