Lin Qi had not expected that an offhand remark of hers would become a prophecy.
Dozens of kilometers away, Fu Shennong dragged his battered body to a temporary shelter and hid himself.
He cursed Lin Qi and Wenge without pause as he skillfully treated his own wounds.
Chunjun's death was an unbearable pain in his heart.
If Lin Qi and the others had arrived a little later, perhaps he would have succeeded in his Body Seizure and would not have had to suffer such regret.
At the thought of how the hard-won chance at life he had fought for had been ruined by Lin Qi and Wenge, the hatred and fury in Fu Shennong's heart accumulated madly.
If it could take tangible form, it would likely become towering waves that drowned Lin Qi and Wenge.
Still, he had Chemazhi.
It was, after all, a ninth-grade spirit herb. Its effects were beyond comparison with ordinary medicinal herbs.
With this ninth-grade spirit herb, Fu Shennong could at least extend his lifespan by several hundred years.
During those centuries, he could take the opportunity to seek another target for Body Seizure.
Chunjun had merely been the most suitable vessel, not the only one.
As old and cunning as Fu Shennong was, how could he possibly put all his eggs in one basket?
After bandaging his wounds, he let out a deep breath, barely steadied his emotions, and set up a defensive barrier around himself. Only then did he cautiously raise a hand to retrieve Chemazhi from his storage space.
The first time he reached in, he came up empty.
Fu Shennong did not take it seriously. He sent his spiritual sense inside and carefully searched through it.
Yet after searching every corner of his storage space, he found no trace of Chemazhi.
Fu