Fang Lin remained undisturbed by Zhang Wenxuan's near-maniacal ranting; instead he calmly watched him.
"Idiot." Fang Lin dismissed, his eyes filled with disdain for Zhang Wenxuan.
Infuriated by Fang Lin's insult, Zhang Wenxuan bled from his forehead even more, staining his impeccably clean robe with fresh blood.
Zhang Wenxuan gritted his teeth and inscribed the eighth mark using his own bloodstream.
Buzz!
The next moment, the entire Pill Furnace was engulfed in bloody light. The eerie aura emanating from the eight crimson marks continuously poured into the furnace.
"Hahaha! I did it! I'm going to win!" Zhang Wenxuan laughed manically as he collapsed to the floor, appearing somewhat drained and dispirited.
It was inevitable. The act of inscribing eight marks with his own blood was quite debilitating to Zhang Wenxuan. He needed a significant period of rest and recuperation before he could recover fully.
