Traces left by someone here gradually reveal themselves.
Those are mottled bloodstains.
And torn edges of clothing.
Fragments of weapons, remnants left on the altar.
Vaguely, hallucinations appeared before Gu Jianlin's eyes.
The white-haired man, wielding a sword with both hands, charged at the terrifying monster.
He was covered in blood, yet furious like a lion.
This is Tang Zijing!
And another middle-aged man, elegant and refined, covered in fierce wounds, struggled to stand up from the ground, with a golden Golden Core above his head, roaring as he dove forward.
Stumbling, then rising again.
Spitting out blood, launching another charge.
Again and again.
Their bloodied, ferocious faces flashed past his eyes.
Vaguely, he seemed to hear Senior Ji's voice.
"Child, can you still hold on?"
Her voice was no longer cold and harsh, but gentle like a spring breeze.
So unwilling to give up.
