"God, forgive me!"
Whenever the Missionary briefly regained consciousness, he would repent like this.
He did not know that his god was also undergoing a trial.
Little Illusion then tossed Stone into a new place.
It was a desert.
"As a god, you should undergo deeper trials." Little Illusion spoke like that, sounding very much like an adult.
Zhao Han knew that this girl was merely imitating her teacher.
Stone's body staggered forward beneath the scorching sun. The merciless desert winds and sand eroded his skin, leaving crack after crack of dried wounds.
Weariness and despair showed in his eyes, yet in this uninhabited desert, he still persevered, searching for a sliver of hope.
His two Sisters had just sealed away his power.
The only advantage he had was that he would not die. Other than that, he was much the same as an ordinary person.
Only by experiencing ordinary people's lives could he understand them, and only then could he know how to guide them.
At noon, the desert temperature reached its peak, waves of heat battering Stone's body one after another.
His lips were cracked, his throat burned like fire, and every step felt as though he were walking across a red-hot iron plate.
Stone's consciousness began to blur. Hallucinations appeared before his eyes: an oasis, clear springs, and the warriors and friends who had already passed away.
Just as Stone was about to collapse, he saw a group of desert survivors.
They wore tattered clothes, their faces wrapped in headscarves against the sand. Beneath the shade of a dune, they were setting up a temporary camp.
They carefully dug through the sand, searching for damp patches and cautiously drawing out moisture.
People could survive in a place like this? Why struggle to survive in the