Whoosh—!
The fierce sound of wind echoed in his ears. Wang Lin was already covered in wounds, leaving a deep trail of blood on the stone steps he crawled over. Under the ever-increasing pressure, every bone in his body felt shattered, incapable of exerting any strength. He moved solely by a force of will, his breath barely hanging on.
In his ear, a series of ethereal voices drifted in and out.
"Alas, give up already. You're not cut out for this, why force it?"
"Haha, Wang Lin, a mere mortal like you is destined to achieve nothing in this life. Do you think you deserve to yearn for Immortal Fate?"
"Wang Lin, you're bound to a life of toil! Stop chasing foolish fantasies!"
"Wang Lin, cultivation requires going with the flow. Why insist on defying the heavens?"
These voices came and went, some earnestly persuading him to give up, others mocking him incessantly, or speaking coldly to shatter all his beliefs!
"No, it's not like that!"
