It's like the mottled corpse spots left after the passage of extreme cold, similar to the frost and snow that have long settled on the stone platform.
He couldn't feel any pain in his body, yet he sensed a cold and deathly stillness rapidly spreading within, Feng Ju's eyes were slightly vacant, and a feeling of desolate powerlessness arose in his heart. He lowered his head to look at his own palms, noticing how the skin and lines had become extremely thin and transparent, the white bones beneath the flesh clearly visible, as if a gentle breeze could disperse them.
Like the straw that broke the camel's back, Yin Baishuang gently patted little Shou's head, sending it back into the small coffin, then swung her sword again.
