Rosy clouds enveloped him, and Gao Ming seemed to stand amidst the clouds.
Layer upon layer, he looked down to see all the absurd and eerie scenes inside the Spirit Temple, where many familiar figures also appeared to him.
The higher he ascended, the greater the pressure the rosy clouds imposed on Gao Ming; unable to maintain the state of Dream Interpretation for long, the nightmares and the Flesh Ghost God returned to his chest at the same time, the enveloping fog dissipated, and the splendid holy light, like a heavenly blade, slashed down, scraping his flesh and bones time and again.
Gao Ming clenched his fists, enduring the torture-like pain.
The rosy light penetrated his body, preventing wounds from healing, inching through, attempting to erase the marks formed by the waste pills.
