Not only his clothes, but even his chest, was pierced through, leaving no trace of his heart, as thick, sticky blood flowed out slowly but resolutely, each drop sliding over his abdomen, striding, and falling to the ground.
The blood flowed more and more abundantly, unstoppable, as belated pain radiated from his chest, spreading to his brain.
Uh... what happened?
He placed his hand over his chest, turned his head stiffly, and looked toward the young man named Xue Jing.
There wasn't the gruesome scene of his head being blown apart that he had imagined; the youth, godlike and beautiful, stood unharmed, his back to him.
Qin Fengcong's gaze shifted to the youth's right hand.
A heart, dripping with blood, was held in his hand, still throbbing strongly, with life force incredibly resilient, blood spurting steadily from each vein and artery as if unaware it had been separated from the body.
That was... his own heart.
