Xiang Aofeng ceased his movements, unbelievingly and rigidly turning his head, his bloodshot eyes extraordinarily wide as he stared at the person who had unexpectedly appeared behind him.
"How, how is this possible?" he trembled as he spoke.
Once ferocious as a wolf or a tiger, he suddenly deflated, sitting on the ground powerlessly, staring blankly at Xiang Yimo in front of him, who held a stick in his hand.
Wasn't he supposed to be dying? Just a few nights ago, he was preparing for his own demise. How is he able to stand?
How does he look as if nothing's wrong with him? He seems healthy and strong, almost as if he could fight a bull.
The lifelessness that once resided in his eyes had somehow transformed into a force that could subdue others.
Suddenly, he, Xiang Aofeng, felt infinitesimally small in front of Xiang Yimo.
