The black mist was like gangrene clinging to the bone, seeping through every crack as it eroded Qin He's body.
He sat cross-legged atop cold, hard rock, the clothes on his back long soaked through with cold sweat and plastered damply against his skin.
The barrier of blood and qi that had once glimmered with a faint golden sheen was now thin as a cicada's wing. It shook violently beneath each impact of the black mist, as though it might shatter completely at any moment.
A bone-deep chill and heaviness spread through all four limbs and every bone in his body.
He wanted to raise his hand, only to find his arm as heavy as if filled with lead, leaving nothing but waves of weakness and exhaustion.
The porcelain bottle of Essence Restoration Pills had long since been emptied, and the last spiritual herb had turned into withered dregs.
Without the support of external aids, he could clearly feel his blood and qi draining away at an unprecedented speed. His life was like sand slipping through his fingers—the tighter he clenched, the more calmly it flowed away.
Outside the Demon Abyss, the Divine Envoy's arrangements remained airtight.
Three layers of light screens shone brilliantly, while the golden light of the Redflame Armored Soldiers was especially eye-catching in the night.
Such great powers never lacked time or patience. They could wait, but Qin He could not.
His consciousness gradually blurred as hallucinations began to encroach upon his mind.
Wang Tie Zhu seemed to be right before him, his face smeared with blood as he shouted desperately at him.
Big Black Ox flicked its tail, its breath heavy from its nostrils.
Wei Wu stood clad in battle armor, a long spear in hand and an unyielding gaze in his eyes.
Fahai pressed