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"Ugh—"
Ling Ao lay weakly on the arena stage, face down and unable to move even as a few disciples from the Hall of Alchemy carefully carried him down.
The exhaustion from burning his blood was intense. Even with a dragon's strong recovery abilities, it would take time to heal, especially since his body was still fundamentally that of a frail human.
Old Man Sikong, leaning on his cane, approached Ling Ao and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
Ling Ao felt a warm surge of qi flow into his meridians, soothing the pain in his limbs and bones from his extreme frailty. However, the deep-seated weakness in his blood persisted. This would have to heal gradually on its own.
"Esteemed teacher..." he murmured, unwilling to lift his head, "I've let you down."
"Silly child," Old Man Sikong said with a smile, patting his head. "Making it to the top four is already enough to satisfy me. The only thing you've let down is your own ambition."
Ling Ao stayed quiet, keeping his head bowed.
Old Man Sikong said no more, letting Ling Ao walk away in his dejection as...
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