This must be what's called enduring hardship without complaint.
All kinds of sensory perceptions seem to remain, but the ability to process information is almost lost.
In the spiritual torture of a thousand cuts, the only shred of energy left in Fu Qian is just enough to discern that the Tomb Guardian hasn't left his line of sight.
But that's all; further verbal communication is beyond him.
Fortunately, it seems that upon witnessing my pursuit of enlightenment, the Tomb Guardian merely sighed without much to say.
At the same time, each second appears to grow incomprehensibly long.
It's no illusion; after mentally slicing his brain into nine blocks of coconut jelly, Fu Qian realizes he hasn't completed even one breath.
Truly... magnificent.
