"Nether Spring!" Li Fan's eyes snapped open.
Zhang Jiugao, who stood before Li Fan and had just woken him, was caught off guard. "Pfft!" He spat out a mouthful of blood. "What, did you actually see that Demon Venerable during your Moon Worship this time?"
Li Fan stared up at the sky, feeling as though part of his memory was missing. In the end, all he could remember were the white fish's words. "I... No. I was probably dreaming..."
"Don't go shouting the Dao Ancestor's name in your dreams!" Zhang Jiugao was furious.
By then, Li Fan had gradually come to his senses. It was the middle of the night, and the sky was still dark. He looked around: the rosy dawn clouds were gone, and there wasn't a trace of the thunderclouds or rain. The Immortal Palace's inescapable killing formation had finally been torn apart.
Li Fan was lying flat on the deck. Ink lines had reattached his short legs and arms, and his shirt had been torn open. Someone had dipped a brush in blood and covered his chest with densely packed scriptures...
Li Fan turned to look at Zhang Jiugao beside him and saw that he was gravely wounded, not a patch of uninjured flesh on his body. It seemed that during the latter half of the battle, while Li Fan had been dragged off by the two fish to chat, Zhang Jiugao had been left to hack his way through a river of blood alone, leading the whole ship's crew to safety. That must have been how he'd suffered such terrible injuries. The golden sword in his hand had been cut in half; that alone showed how perilous the battle had been.
"Are you going to transfer your injuries to me, like Zhang He did when