Chen Xiaolan exhaled a breath of cold air, shaking her head in refusal to Meng Zifei's kind offer:
"Master, your health hasn't been good these days, please don't waste your spiritual power on me."
Amidst the cold mountains, thick clouds raced low, brushing against the swaying treetops, with occasional bursts of night light sprinkling cold starlight.
This phenomenon made Meng Zifei frown deeply, hiding his body within the shadows of the dense leaves.
He watched the starlight that fell onto the snow, his face pale as paper, with heavy shadows under his eyes.
Meng Zifei could only lean crookedly against a winter tree, barely managing to stand, looking extremely unwell.
Despite the heavy snow and cold, a hint of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.
His hair, disheveled by the wind, was plastered to his gaunt cheeks by sweat, quickly freezing into ice in the biting wind.
He seemed to be in a daze for a long time before he realized what Chen Xiaolan had just said.
