"Cough, cough, cough!"
The instant Xiao Mo emerged from the Book of a Hundred Lives, the world spun around him.
"Ugh!"
Xiao Mo braced himself against the ground and retched nonstop, but nothing came up.
[Husband, you're back.]
[Xiao Mo. I don't want to cross the river!]
[Xiao Mo, do you know that in this vast sea, you're the only grain of sand I want?]
[Don't worry. I'll get the Dragon Thunder Liquid. I won't let you leave!]
[Ruxue, tell me, have we grown old together?]
[Xiao Mo, as the mortal sage of this world, don't you care about the name you'll leave behind?!]
Years' worth of memories flooded into Xiao Mo's mind all at once.
His head throbbed unbearably. He wanted nothing more than to smash it against something and die.
A full half hour passed.
Only then did the soul-rending pain slowly fade.
Xiao Mo lay on the brick floor, drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I really can't adjust the time ratio between the Book of a Hundred Lives and reality this much again."
Xiao Mo wiped the hot sweat from his forehead.
To get his rewards as quickly as possible, Xiao Mo had foolishly tried an eight-hundred-to-one time ratio: eight hundred days in the Book of a Hundred Lives for every day in reality.
The result was that Xiao Mo had felt like he'd nearly died!
Fortunately, he could now be considered a cultivator, and his soul had grown stronger to some degree.
Otherwise, if he'd still had the body of an ordinary person, he would have been done for.
Xiao Mo got to his feet, then sat on the ground and gazed up at the sky, letting out a long breath.
A woman in a white dress rose unbidden in his mind.