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Liu Wuxie's consciousness teetered on the brink of death, but a sharp pain jolted him awake, cutting through the fog in his mind. A faint ray of light pierced the abyss, bringing a glimmer of hope.
Broken fragments of sound trickled in, but he couldn't make out the words.
The water's temperature continued to rise. The servant, having vented much of his resentment, tossed in a few more herbs, allowing the medicine to seep into Liu Wuxie's body. Though bitter, he had no intention of killing him—anyone would hold a grudge if their clan suffered a great loss for the sake of a stranger.
The crack in the abyss widened, and Liu Wuxie's consciousness took the form of a silver needle, struggling to slip through the gap and escape.
"Not enough! If only the crack were a little bigger," Liu Wuxie murmured anxiously. The external stimulation had weakened significantly, and the rest was up to him now. His soul sea was like a cocoon wrapped tightly around his divine sense. This was a protective layer, but it also served as a double-edged sword.
When he was injured, his soul sea had formed a cocoon to shield his primordial...
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