When Li Lianhua Transmigrated to Young White Horse Drunken Spring Breeze

The salty sea breeze swept fine sand against the bamboo walls of the thatched cottage. Li Lianhua slowly opened his eyes through the haze. A few shafts of sunlight slipped through the thatched roof overhead, casting speckled shadows on the mottled mud walls. He tried to sit up, but his whole body ached as if countless silver needles were pricking him. The taste of rust rose in his throat as the memories still remaining washed over him like a tide: the fierce battle with Di Feisheng in the East Sea, the piercing agony when the Bicha poison flared up, and the suffocating sensation of cold seawater flooding his lungs as he sank into the depths.

“Don’t move.” A low voice came from the corner.