“I am the Old Ancestor of the Dao Heart. I have nothing to repay you with, so I’ll pass on everything I’ve learned in my life. Make good use of it, and pass it on!” A voice, old yet powerful, rang out inside Li Ziteng’s head.
Li Ziteng was groggy, as if he were dreaming. Then his whole body grew so hot it felt like he was on fire, and an incredibly powerful force surged into him. Then something strange happened: the wound on his head, which had been hurting terribly, no longer hurt, and the bleeding had stopped.
Before long, Li Ziteng’s eyelids twitched and he slowly opened his eyes. Still dazed, he reached up and touched his head. The wound had completely healed, without even leaving a scar.
“What on earth is going on?” Li Ziteng wondered, convinced he must be dreaming. But when he looked around, something even stranger happened. Whenever his eyes landed on an object, information about it appeared in his mind. For example, when he looked at the vase Zhou Wenpeng had smashed over his head, his mind displayed: “A modern reproduction of a Yuan dynasty vase. Poor workmanship. Worth only 300 yuan.” Then he looked at the one beside it
