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Li Zhouda's eyes suddenly snapped open. White bone and flesh rapidly grew beneath his neck once more, while the scattered organs and mangled upper body lying in the mud leaped up as though they had grown legs of their own, reattaching themselves beneath his head. Even his original armor and clothing were reconstructed perfectly by Bright Yang heavenly light. The man abruptly sat upright, turned away, and violently spat out a mouthful of black blood.
Meanwhile, lower limbs regenerated out of thin air beneath Qu Buzhi, whom Li Zhouming had been carrying the entire time. Standing steadily upon the clouds once more, the old man bowed with tears streaming down his face.
"Many thanks, Daoist Master!"
Li Quewan rose to her feet with visible relief, though the anxiety on her face only lessened slightly as she hurriedly said, "Uncle… there are probably still others scattered across the region…"
Li Zhouwei nodded toward her. Only then did the two of them notice another person following behind him, clearly someone he had just rescued as well. Though his...
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