```
From that lump of rotten flesh, unintelligible syllables emerged, and it was unclear what was being said.
Zhao Xingchen hadn't expected that when the curse was lifted, he would end up in such a wretched state.
But, that wasn't important!
He was still alive!
He was still clinging to life!
No matter how miserable or tattered this body was, it was Nicholas Zhao's flesh, what did it have to do with Zhao Xingchen?
As long as he could—survive!
Live!
Just as Zhao Xingchen thought he would carry the heavy burden of a protagonist's template, destined to seek survival against adversity in such desperate circumstances, a figure with black hair silently appeared in front of Zhao Xingchen.
Zhao Xingchen's eyes suddenly widened.
Fear instantly filled that solitary eye.
"Goodnight, Nicholas Zhao."
Gu Tianqing smiled faintly, stealthily drawing a small skinning knife.
The moonlight reflected off the knife, casting its glow on the lump of rotten flesh called "Zhao Xingchen."
