"Cough, cough, cough..."
When all the Tribulation Clouds had dispersed, the mountain range where Qin He had stood was gone, transformed into an enormous crater more than a hundred zhang deep.
Within a hundred li, all was scorched earth.
Residual lightning power occasionally slithered through the area like spirit snakes.
Qin He had been blasted into a limp sitting position at the center of the crater. His face was charred black, his hair curled and stood on end. Every cough sent black smoke spraying from his mouth; when he covered his mouth with a hand, even the bloody froth he coughed up was scorched.
This lightning was no ordinary fierce.
Especially that final strike—a thunderous Immortal Palace had come crashing down directly. Under that terrifying suppressive force, Qin He felt as though every inch of his flesh and bones would scatter to the winds, his soul splitting into four and five pieces.
If not for the Merit Golden Body's resistance to lightning, not even dregs of him would have remained by now.
At that moment, his internal organs were all scorched dry, burning with pain. A tide of blood kept surging against his throat, and at last he could not hold it back. With a "wah," he spat out a huge mouthful of blood.
Good heavens—there were even fragments of his internal organs in the blood.
His soul, too, was assailed by wave after wave of dizziness, and he could pass out at any moment.
In his daze, he even saw that one of his big toes had flown off to who knew where.
Farther away, Wu Zhuzi and Black Feather lay on the ground like two dead dogs. It was impossible to tell whether they had breathed their last.
"Damn it, I underestimated that lightning."
Qin He cursed, forcibly