When the golden figure shot into the sky, more than one Paijiao member on the wooden raft breathed a sigh of relief. Someone even laughed, as if a great weight had been lifted.
To them, the mysterious attacker had probably failed to break through after so long and fled for fear that Paijiao's experts would hear the commotion and come running.
But Pan Long did not relax in the slightest. If anything, he grew more tense.
The pressure on his body had vanished, but the warning in his heart had grown fiercer.
It felt like the moment before facing danger. The danger had yet to arrive, but both reason and instinct were sounding the alarm.
And that warning was stronger than anything he had ever felt.
He had thought that "electricity underfoot, a chill in the heart, every hair standing on end" was as fierce as such warnings could get. Only now did he realize it was not even close.
The strongest warning was one where the mere sense of danger could genuinely put a person's life at risk.
His heart hammered so hard that he feared it might leap out of his throat. His stomach cramped violently with tension, leaving him in unbearable pain and making him want to vomit.
Worst of all, blood seemed to rush to his head, plunging his vision into darkness. If he had been wearing the health tracker from his previous life, its blood-pressure reading would have gone off the scale. The staff at the community health center would probably already be on their way in an ambulance.
He even suspected that a tiny cut near his eyebrow or upper lip, where blood vessels were plentiful, would send blood shooting out like an arrow—hard enough to pierce rock at close range!
An ordinary person