"Heh--"
Ling Ao lay weakly on the ring floor, unable to move even as a few disciples from the Pill Furnace Hall carried him away.
The exhaustion brought on by the Burning Blood was intense, even the strong regenerative abilities of the dragonkin's physical body took slow to recover. Even more so for his body, which was of a fragile human nature.
Old Man Sikong, leaning on his cane, came to his side and gently put a hand on his shoulder.
Ling Ao felt a warmth flow through his meridians, dispelling the immense weakness that pain shot through him all over. But he could still feel the weakness pervading his veins, and he would need to recover slowly by himself.
"Master..." he murmured, not willing to look up, "your disciple has failed your expectations."
"Silly child," Old Man Sikong patted his head and smiled, "making it into the top four is enough to satisfy me. You just feel like you've let down your own ambitions."
Ling Ao remained silent, hanging his head without speaking.
