Eleanor was young, at least in comparison—just a mere fifteen hundred years under her belt.
Yet, she'd delved into the mysteries of the soul with insight far beyond her years.
She had mastered healing—not just of the body, but of the very essence that sustained it.
Wang Xiao still recalled a conversation with Eleanor where she likened a cracked glass bottle to a fractured body.
The analogy had struck him, revealing deeper truths about the fragility and resilience of existence.
And if Eleanor hadn't grasped that concept within her first hundred years of life, well, she wouldn't be here now.
But after a millennium of study, she had ventured into even deeper mysteries—the healing of a shattered soul, a challenge that few had the nerve to even consider.
Because when a person dies, the body that holds the soul together crumbles.
