The Vermilion Bird Fruit, Cauldron-shaped Fruit, and Eight Diagram Fruit were pristine and flawless, shining like rainbow-hued glass, dazzling and radiant. When refined, they transformed into incomplete natural images of the Dao, which were mysterious and profound, continuously imprinting into his body.
Outside Ye Fan's body, a blood-red Vermilion Bird danced, an ancient and natural small cauldron floated, and the profound eight trigram diagram rotated, all exceedingly strange.
The medicinal power was indeed too strong. If the nine ancient characters had not been carved on his body, he might have transformed into a child. If he had become as small as the pitiful little girl, that would have been quite the spectacle.
In the bronze coffin, a heap of impurities appeared, including broken bones and cracked, dry skin. This sight sent chills down his spine, but it was reality; these were things he himself had shed.
