He had absorbed Emperor Qing's Kingly True Qi into his System Space, not only emerging unscathed but even using it to strengthen himself and return to his peak.
Emperor Qing could clearly sense his powerful aura and knew it was no bluff, yet he still refused to believe it, clinging to a hope that luck might save him.
Different positions, different ideals, and different understandings created an unbridgeable chasm of comprehension.
To change someone through communication and words alone, especially someone whose understanding had hardened, was undoubtedly a fool's dream.
Even those anime protagonists skilled at talking their opponents around understood that to make reason get through, they first had to beat their opponents into the ground!
Only cold reality, only the scythe of death pressed against their necks, only having no other choice could truly wake them up.
As Emperor Qing spoke, he had already secretly recovered some True Essence.
He used True Qi to return his displaced organs to their proper positions, then used it to regulate his blood and energy. His condition improved at a speed visible to the naked eye.
His entire body shuddered, blasting all the mud and debris from his body and robes into a ring of grayish-brown dust.
Were it not for the wound still on his chest, were it not for his bright yellow dragon robes still hanging in tatters, Emperor Qing seemed to have once again become that composed, unhurried sovereign who ruled over all beneath heaven.
Emperor Qing let out a long breath.
His breastbone was shattered, and every rise and fall of his chest brought pain beyond what ordinary people could bear, yet his expression did not change.
This little pain was nothing compared with those years when all his meridians had been severed and life had been worse