Following Zhu Qingyue's instructions, if reluctantly, Mo Cheng settled down into the lotus position, legs crossed and hands cupped before him in a meditative posture. His breathing slowed and settled into an even rhythm as he fell into a trancelike state.
Zhu Qingyue knelt behind Mo Cheng, his palms resting on the man's shoulder blades as a burst of spiritual energy transferred through his hands into Mo Cheng.
"I don't think I can hold on much longer," Mo Cheng gasped after a short while, coughing out spurts of blood as he shuddered through the energy transfusion.
Whatever sort of spiritual essence flowed through the white-haired devil's veins was just too much for his mortal body to handle.
The corners of Zhu Qingyue's mouth stretched wider in apparent disdain.
"Be silent," he ordered with a sneer.
Mo Jing and Li Meirong, both spectating from the sidelines, looked at each other worriedly.
