Chu Feng was like a phantom. The picture scroll had taken its initial form, but his body had been nearly destroyed, and he was miserable.
His flesh was in bad condition. His chest, back, and abdomen were covered in bloody holes, some of which light could peek through. Any more wound and he could be used as a sieve. The people watching were terrified.
The space between his eyebrows was also injured with a horrifying crack extending all the way from his forehead to his abdomen, making it look like he was about to be cut open. The description bone-deep wounds didn't even begin to cover it—even his intestines were close to falling out.
Chu Feng had never been like this after even decisive battles. Not even being chased down by the machine race and the Xilin race was this miserable.
Were it not for his perfectly straight spine and his torch-like gaze, a ragged person such as himself would be mistaken for a corpse and carelessly thrown away.
