Strange, fantastical phantoms flashed before his eyes, as if a blazing fire had ignited beside him.
Endless icy rain pelted down, making it feel as though he had arrived in a frigid hell.
A Yan, who had kept his eyes closed, suddenly shuddered and snapped them open, looking around.
A feeling of weakness washed over him, leaving him without even a shred of strength anywhere in his body.
Especially his lower half, which was numb as though it no longer existed. The only thing he could control was his eyelids.
I... Am I dead?
The novel sensation he had never experienced before made A Yan sigh in relief. It seemed that being dead was not such a terrible thing after all? Apart from being unable to move, he could still think, and he was still warm.
There was even a fragrance in the air. Wait, a fragrance? As his hearing and sense of smell gradually recovered, more information reached him.
Someone seemed to be smacking their lips while eating. Even without looking, he could tell from the sound that whatever they were eating had to be delicious.
"Huh, Old Xia, he seems to have woken up!"
The voice came from beside him, followed by a series of footsteps.
A man in a padded coat walked over from somewhere, looking him over with an inspecting gaze.
"Looks like the medicine the village chief gave us worked pretty well?"
"Pretty well" was an understatement.
To bring someone back from the brink of death was nothing short of a miracle!
In the wasteland, humans were exceptionally tolerant when it came to medicine.
They did not ask for a complete recovery. As long as it kept someone from dying, that alone was already a rare blessing.
When the Red Potions had been distributed to