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Huff!
Inhale!
Blood like coagulating dew, its abundance like rain.
A hundred thousand pores bled pearls, each the size of beans, flowing over the skin, drying into scabs before they could hit the ground.
Liang Qu's lips were cracked and dry, his saliva sticky like glue, his head spinning and vision blurring.
Opening his mouth, air whooshed into his lungs and flowed away from someplace unknown, leaving nothing behind.
Inside his chest, his heart beat desperately but each time weaker than the last.
An unprecedented weakness.
His will was like a tree growing in the desert, its roots madly stretching in the sand yet unable to draw a single drop of water. Withered and emaciated, under the scorching sun, it was about to become a deadwood lost in the vast desert—eroded by the winds and sand.
Half an incense stick of time passed, and the last drop of fresh blood oozed from his pores, leaving Liang Qu's breath barely perceptible.
