The sky swelled with dark clouds. Thunder roared overhead, muffling the distant calls of death and destruction.
Yang Sehan doused his face with water from an old well. There was a distinct taste in the water that couldn't leave his tongue. It was a dirty well, likely one that hadn't been used for years.
But what choice did he have?
He looked at his reflection in the pail before scooping a bit of water to drink. What was the point when the storm was closing in on him? He thought vacantly.
'You need to conserve your strength,' a familiar voice echoed in his mind, one that wasn't tinted by Liu Langce, Chen Anyue or any other hosts the Golden God had chosen to take over. It was Jin Juwan's true voice, one that hearkened a nostalgia that Yang Sehan couldn't quite put a finger on. He sighed, laughing without humor as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
What was the point any longer? It would be a lot easier to simply lay down and die.
