Ning Zhuo was seated on the ground, clutching his abdomen.
The wound on his stomach continued to bleed slowly, causing intermittent pain.
He took several deep breaths, his breathing gradually becoming lighter.
The bronze shield lay motionless on the ground. He gazed at it with a hint of regret in his eyes.
He had originally intended to continue his combat practice. Under the pressure of the bronze shield, he was able to learn something every moment and feel his progress.
However, the injury on his abdomen wouldn't allow him to fight for long.
Ning Zhuo controlled the bronze shield with his divine sense, instantly causing its edges to transform into dense, giant saw teeth.
Looking at the cold light on the saw teeth, Ning Zhuo thought, "This shield indeed possesses this kind of offensive stance, truly insidious. I wonder who its original owner was."
He sat still, his breathing becoming progressively longer.
