The sky was dim, dark clouds packed thick overhead.
A broad, mighty river cut through the towering mountains, winding down into the fertile ten-thousand-mile expanse of the Songmao Great Plain below.
The cold wind howled. Waves rose and fell across the river, whirlpools riddling its surface. From time to time, colossal creatures could be seen leaping out of the water, only to smash back down again moments later, throwing up great sheets of spray.
Just then, a paper kite suddenly flew out from the depths of the mountains. It was about two zhang long, vivid and lifelike, and a blood-colored figure sat cross-legged on its back.
The man's brows and eyes were cold and stern, his body gaunt as iron. His clothes were soaked through with blood, and the flesh of his chest had been split open, blood still gushing out in a steady flow.
The blood soon ran from the hem of his robes onto the paper kite beneath him. Crimson spread outward, veiling the kite in a layer of blood.
Han Lin's face was pale. As he turned his head to look behind him, he felt at his waist and took out a bottle of Spring Return Pills. All the remaining Spiritual Power in his body gathered at his wound as he did everything he could to suppress the blade qi that was on the verge of "boiling over."
He poured out several Spring Return Pills and swallowed them in one gulp. The medicinal power soon spread through his whole body, and a prickling itch quickly rose from his chest as the blood gradually stopped flowing.
Han Lin secretly let out a breath of relief, but boundless anger abruptly surged up in his heart, a wave of resentment rushing straight into his mind.
"Chen Lie, you Old Thief—today's