Inside Xiao Cangqing, his blood was no longer a simple fluid.
It had transformed into an indomitable, surging torrent,
struggling desperately within an abyss of despair.
This Blood Power, like a frenzied beast,
ran rampant through Xiao Cangqing's shattered body,
especially around his neck, which was twisted completely out of shape.
The neck—
that fragile link between head and body.
Under the surging Blood Power, which moved almost like a gentle caress,
his shattered cervical vertebrae were slowly guided by an unseen force, adjusting their position inch by inch.
Each subtle movement was accompanied by indescribable pain and struggle.
Finally, his head, which had been bent at an almost impossible angle,
slowly returned to a position from which he could just barely gaze up at the sky.
In the sky, the cyan figure was like the Death God descending—ferocious and cold.
His every move kept Xiao Cangqing on a knife's edge.
