Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock's hand continues to move.
Several white bone bullets shot towards Wang Cong at close range, but before his brain could react, they were intercepted by a layer of white sand.
Whish, whish, whish!
The white sand hung in the air in front of Wang Cong, not static but swirling back and forth like a sunken mudslide, using an unusually soft force to entangle the bone bullets, causing rippling waves.
The few bone bullets, as hard as iron and visible to the naked eye, seemed to be trapped in a quagmire, their impact force dissolved, and then they were slowly engulfed, taking two or three breaths to be reduced to bone fragments, becoming part of the white sand.
"Hey? Your fingers!"
Wang Cong was shocked, wanting to manipulate the white sand to spit out the devoured bones, only to find it impossible, like the parental protection and love, domineeringly irresistible.
