Lin Yurong's heart was filled with melancholy. Although she was well aware that such melancholy was of no benefit to her, at this moment, she found it difficult to muster any fighting spirit.
Exhausted of resources, physically spent, and even her cultivation level had regressed by one layer.
Even so, not only did she fail to struggle free from that vortex, she found herself sinking deeper into the enormous whirlpool.
To the point where she no longer even had the thought of struggling. To her, it was a dead-end road anyway, whether she struggled or not, there was truly no difference.
The sea was vast and desolate; there was no sign of life between heaven and earth. Having given up, all Lin Yurong could do was drift with the current, gradually moving toward death.
Her life, like waves, surged into her mind, a life born of stunning talent and envied beauty, a life where she was always surrounded by stars holding the moon, filled with flowers and praise along the way.
