When the last wisp of crimson-gold medicinal power completely fused into his flesh and blood, Qin He slowly opened his eyes. The scarlet hue condensed in their depths by extreme agony had yet to fade, but it had already been replaced by an indescribable clarity and wild joy.
He instinctively raised a hand to brace himself against the ground. The moment his fingertips touched the cold rocky floor, a vast force surged along his finger bones and spread through his entire body. His limbs, somewhat stiff from sitting cross-legged for so long, were now as nimble as if newly born. Every slight movement carried the rhythm of perfectly harmonized muscles and bones.
He lowered his head to look at his hands. The calluses on his palms stood out clearly—proof of his struggle against this cruel world after losing his ability to sense vital energy.
Without vital energy to protect his body, all he had was this fleshly body grinding against the world.
Yet these hands were now different from before. His skin carried a faint jade-like sheen, seemingly delicate but containing astonishing resilience. The muscle lines around his knuckles had become smoother and firmer. With a light clench, he could feel the weighty strength issuing from his bones, as though this hand could crush even the air.
The dark brown impurities that had congealed into a hard crust over his body had long since dried and fallen away beneath the steaming medicinal power. They lay scattered across the ground beside him in a thin layer, giving off a pungent, foul stench.
Those were deep-rooted afflictions forced from the depths of his flesh by the pill: toxins from hidden injuries left behind by battles long ago, internal blockages accumulated from years of eating coarse food, and minute impurities that had never