Just as Ling Fengzhui was struggling even to speak, with the last traces of life nearly fading from him, a sudden change occurred.
Xiao Yan watched as the blade in Ling Fengzhui's hand, which had been dull and lifeless, suddenly flickered with light. It was not a blinding radiance, but a faint, gentle glow with a warm, mellow quality. The glow slowly shifted, eventually gathering in Ling Fengzhui's hand, and a faint warm current emerged within his body.
The sudden warm current was far from enough to dispel the weakness and agony that had seeped into his bones, but it supported Ling Fengzhui's body on the verge of collapse, restoring a little strength to his limp, broken-frame-like body.
Xiao Yan did not stop him when he saw this. Ling Fengzhui's nearly fatal injuries could not possibly heal anytime soon.
Borrowing that faintly renewed vitality, Ling Fengzhui gritted his teeth, veins bulging at his temples from the strain. Relying on this sudden strength and his unyielding will, he slowly and with extreme difficulty forced himself upright. After barely sitting up, Ling Fengzhui looked at the blade in his hand, regret flickering in his eyes.
Then Ling Fengzhui raised his head and looked at Xiao Yan once more, an unusually calm smile appearing on his face.
"Cough, cough, cough... To die in the Heavenly Tomb, after having fought a great battle with you beforehand, means I have no regrets."
Faced with Ling Fengzhui in such a state, Xiao Yan fell silent instead. If he wanted to, he could kill Ling Fengzhui at any moment now. Yet the other man's composure in the face of death stirred a measure of respect within Xiao Yan.
"You still haven't killed me..." Ling Fengzhui continued to gasp laboriously. "It seems you want to pry something useful