The moment he saw it, Wang Jianjun let go of everything else, his eyes only filled with this scene.
He saw his grandfather, saw his younger self, and everyone else, including Wen Yan, faded away.
He struggled forward in the increasingly thick and resistant air, madly lunging ahead.
His roars set off ripples that slowly spread forward before dissipating into the air.
Clearly within arm's reach, yet he couldn't get through no matter what.
His blood felt like it was burning, as if some power was beginning to drain out of it.
He reached forward frantically, like a drowning man just about to see the water's surface, his hands began to show wounds, his skin seemed bruised.
As the blood seeped from the wounds, it spread like it would in water, turning into a blood mist.
The blood mist continuously spread, enveloping Wang Jianjun, but he didn't care at all.
