Slas, Slas, Slas
Thud. The Ghost-Faced King's head hit the ground. Zhao Kongcheng's body staggered, then fell straight down. Lin Qiye reacted quickly, catching him before he collapsed completely. Only then did he realize just how broken Zhao Kongcheng's body had become. Scratches, bruises, fractures—his entire body was covered in wounds. Blood flowed endlessly, turning the muddy rainwater beneath him into a crimson pool. At least five or six bones were broken, yet Zhao Kongcheng had still managed to fight standing upright. What scared Lin Qiye most was the life force he could sense—it was fading fast, like embers dying out in cold ash. He sat there, holding Zhao Kongcheng, at a loss. "Your body…" *Cough, cough, cough.* "It's nothing. Just the backlash from forcing out my potential." "If
- Writer
