Spiritual qi surged. Ash-gray aura twisted up Mo Xixi's arm like a snake and flared across Dou Xinshi's stomach.
"Entrails Locking Cursed Palm." Mo Xixi's voice was cold, like reading a spell from an ancient text.
It sounded intimidating!
It looked terrifying!
But all it really did was stop a man from pooping.
This was a secret technique from the Ashen Curse Cult.
Once cast, it began to seal off the intestinal meridians in slow increments - spreading from the gut like tightening chains of cursed qi.
For one hour, the target would be safe.
But after that… the seal would break.
The built-up waste would erupt explosively.
Forget resistance. It bypassed willpower, muscle control, and dignity.
Legend said one elder once blasted ten feet into the air, pants-first, shattering a roof tile.
Dou Xinshi staggered back, clutching his stomach.
"…"
The pain was… gone?
The pressure? Erased.
Even the sweat on his back started to dry.
"What?!"
