The fierce wind slashed across the shattered peak of the spirit veins. Su Han’s consciousness drifted in and out amid excruciating pain. The hollow feeling in his dantian was like countless ants gnawing at his heart: a sign that his cultivation had been completely crippled. He knelt on one knee atop the jagged rocks, a familiar longsword buried in his chest. Intricate cloud patterns were carved into its blade, now stained with his blood. “Why… Senior Brother…”
