'I miscalculated.' Badulf frowned as his health deteriorated rapidly. Strand by strand, the three thousand strands of his silky black hair quickly turned white. 'It's more than I expected.'
Arnard was powerless to help him. He, just like the Water Celestial, could only watch him grow older without being able to do a thing.
A few moments ago, Badulf looked like a man in his mid-twenties, but now with wrinkles around his eyes, hair as white as snow, a hunched back, and breaths as weak as an infant, he looked like an old man in his late eighties.
Arnard couldn't help but ask him, "How much did you exactly sacrifice to revive him?"
Hearing his words, Badulf chuckled. Even such a simple action was quite taxing for the current him, causing blood to rush up his throat.
A rusty smell filled his mouth.
His blood painted his white teeth red.
He didn't spew it out and instead forced it back down the hole it came up from, and he did it methodically as if he was used to it.
