After a long and hard battle, the old man was scratched by a thorn on the vine. This simple scratch on his leg was enough to leave him completely paralyzed. He was not dead, yet he could feel the shadow of death hovering above him. He fell from the sky, and the impact with the ground forced him to cough up blood. Under normal circumstances, this would have been impossible. He was a Deva; even falling from the highest mountain would be far from enough to leave a scratch on him, yet he now coughed up blood from this simple fall.
This was when he finally understood that the poison from the vine not only paralyzed him; it also sealed his cultivation and made his Immortal qi stagnant. He knew there was no escape. The old man closed his eyes and waited for his death. He felt that this death would not be too shameful; after all, he had died fighting for life.
