That chill surged into Su Fan's body from the crown of his head, rampaging through his nearly drained meridians. Yet somehow, it restored a trace of his strength that had been on the verge of dissipating.
Su Fan tilted his head back and struggled to swallow the sweet, metallic air, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.
The low-hanging leaden clouds on the horizon were like cotton soaked in ink, piling up layer upon layer, so heavy they seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
Deep within the clouds, the pressure radiating from the True Dragon Remnant churned like a tangible force. It was as if a pair of invisible giant hands had clamped tightly around his throat, making each breath more difficult than the last.
Su Fan drew in a deep breath. The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, like the reek of countless corpses soaking and fermenting in a ditch.
Although that Witchcraft School Upper Realm Big Shot had infused his body with power and restored much of his stamina, he still found every step extremely difficult.
Each time he moved forward, his legs felt as though they had been filled with heavy lead, or tangled in countless thorns. Every exertion came with tearing agony.
The gravel beneath his feet let out a groan under the strain, mingling with his harsh panting and echoing through this Dead Silence wasteland.
He stood there, huffing and puffing until another chill poured in from the top of his head. Only then did he continue onward.
He walked and stopped like that, and Su Fan had no idea how long he had been moving.
Still, hard work had finally paid off. After trekking onward for a long time, he at last arrived before the True Dragon Remnant.
Unable to hold