"I've seen many dead people, so my judgment can't be wrong."
Guo Dong looked at him and said, "You really are going to die."
"I know," Jing Jiu said.
His injuries were grievous, his internal organs severed and his blood depleted. Even the most precious miraculous medicines would struggle to save him, unless he could obtain an Immortal Register.
"Before you die, can you tell me who you really are?" Guo Dong asked.
"You've met me," Jing Jiu said.
"Even if you're Jingyang's Disciple of a Disciple, you couldn't possibly be this formidable," Guo Dong said.
Escaping the Western Sea Sword God's sword with her in tow was not something those so-called young geniuses could accomplish.
If word of this spread, it would surely shake the entire Chaotian Continent-or no one would believe it.
Guo Dong did not believe he was merely that Green Mountain disciple named Jing Jiu.
Jing Jiu did not answer her question.
Having lost too much blood, his face was utterly bloodless, yet his features remained as perfect as ever. He looked even less like a real person, like a jade sculpture.
There had been a similar impression when the Western Sea Sword God lay in the seawater.
"I suggest you turn into a Sword Ghost. You might still dissipate in the end, but at least you could live a little longer."
Guo Dong's suggestion seemed simple, yet it revealed her insight and her unimaginably profound mastery of Daoist arts.
Jing Jiu had no way to turn himself into a Sword Ghost again. To survive, he needed another method. "Lend me your thread," he said.
At this, Guo Dong's gaze cooled slightly. "Who exactly are you?"
Still not answering, Jing Jiu slowly raised his right hand and extended his index finger.
Guo Dong looked at him