Aaron thrust black sphere directly into the gaping mouth of a jiangshi, the weapon piercing through with unerring precision and embedding deep within the undead creature's maw.
The jiangshi erupted in a blaze of nether flames that licked hungrily at its decayed form, consuming it relentlessly until nothing remained but a scattering of fine ashes drifting on the wind, the air tinged with the acrid scent of purification.
Two more jiangshis maneuvered stealthily to flank Aaron from either side, their elongated claws poised to strike at what they perceived as his vulnerable blind spots, their movements silent and predatory in the chaotic battlefield.
Yet, with Aaron's heightened werewolf senses, particularly his acutely sensitive nose that picked up the foul, rotting odor emanating from the undead, he detected their approach without effort, his instincts alerting him to the impending danger.
