The immortal art had been broken. Zhang Jiao seemed to have been struck by lightning; he spat blood and collapsed on the spot. The disciples around him were horrified and hurried forward to support him.
"Master!"
"Great Worthy Teacher!"
"Master! Master, wake up!"
Shen Le's heart sank. He stepped forward as well and pressed a palm against Zhang Jiao's back. As he sent out a faint stream of warmth, his heart immediately dropped. He held back a sigh.
No hope.
He couldn't be saved.
If Zhang Jiao's body still contained vigorous vital energy and magical power rampaging within him, Shen Le might have been able to sort it out slowly and guide it back into order, allowing that vital energy to gradually heal its master.
However, when the warmth flowed in, all he sensed was an empty shell. No matter how much he poured in, it all leaked away—
The backlash just now had already torn the old man's shell—or rather, his shell in a spiritual sense—to pieces. His vital energy was frantically leaking out. It was beyond any possibility of replenishment...
Other than circulating the warm current to barely preserve the last trace of warmth in Zhang Jiao's heart, Shen Le was utterly powerless. And with the giant dragon's roar, the situation on the battlefield reversed in an instant!
The government army erupted in earth-shaking battle cries. Their morale soared as they launched a swift counterattack.
Meanwhile, the Yellow Turban Army—whose morale, momentum, and formation had become part of the energy fueling Zhang Jiao's spell—staggered as one. Nearly the entire army fell into disarray, and some of those in the front ranks even vomited blood outright!
From where Shen Le stood, he could see the point where the two battle lines met descend into visible chaos for a brief