Deep within the cabin of the Black Diamond Dragon Ship.
A clump of dark-gray ink writhed in midair like a venomous snake that had been cut in half, constantly giving off hissing sounds of corrosion. It was the remnant status left behind after the Scribe's clone had shattered—cold, rotten, carrying a final verdict that meant to erase all existence.
Chu Qing sat cross-legged and settled himself.
(Action): He suddenly opened his mouth, his lungs contracting and expanding like enormous bellows, raising a peal of thunder.
(Result): That clump of gray ink was swallowed by him in one gulp, plunging straight into the depths of his heart.
Inside his heart, that purple crystal beat so violently it seemed about to explode. Every muffled thud shook the karmic runes on the cabin walls into a frenzy of flashing light.
The dark gold [Dragon-Defying True Blood] reacted the instant it touched the gray ink, like ice water dripping into a pan of boiling oil.
This pain was no longer like needles stabbing him; every cell was spontaneously disintegrating. Chu Qing's fingernails sank deep into the flesh of his thighs, his knuckles turning deathly white from excessive force. Purple True Blood seeped out through the gaps between his fingers, only to be sucked back into his skin the moment it hit the floor.
(Physiological Reaction): His forehead was covered in fine beads of cold sweat, and the veins on his neck writhed madly beneath his skin like slender purple snakes. An extremely deep, muffled groan escaped his throat, the masseter muscles at his cheeks bulging high, as though he were about to bite and crush the roots of his teeth.
In his sea of consciousness.
That fragmentary page curled and flipped in the purple firelight: [Stone Ridge Mountain, Grinding Mill of the Era...]
(Physiological