He Yong looked on listlessly at the densely packed vine creepers. They hung down like snakes, their ends slightly moving. They would flock to whichever wounded person who made any movement. He Yong was a brave wood elementalist. The vines he once treated as his partner were now indicting him cruelly.
From his initial fear to his collapse to the numbness he felt now, He Yong already knew he had no hope of surviving.
At this point, he was actually less afraid. He was merely waiting for the Death God’s arrival.
Without hope, people were able to feel calm instead. Complain? There was nothing to complain about. Death meant the end. Killing his partners with his own hands had brought greater and endless suffering.
His trial had already started when he was infected with the blood poison.
