The vast consciousness shrouding the camp receded, and the luminous golden scales gradually dimmed.
An illusory glow emanated from a young sapling, healing Lu Li's neck wound, nurturing his nearly parched body, and awakening long-slumbering plants.
Countless buds pierced through the planks, guarding the silhouette of the bound stone pillar, but they could achieve nothing.
The plants submerged his ankles, forming a lawn, as the sapling that sprouted a second and third leaf withdrew into space.
Lu Li's face regained its color, escaping death, yet he remained in peril—he was bound to a stone pillar in a silent camp. Deprived of the heretics' guards, something strange might arrive at any moment, or everything might plunge into silence once the bonfire extinguished.
The short dagger discarded by Professor Hagrid pressed upon a patch of young grass, a mere two meters' distance like an impassable chasm—the plants, devoid of wisdom, would not heed his will.
