The entire team had been bathed in his light, and without him, half of them would be corpses already.
But Ling Yu did not waste even a single breath in relief.
Her sharp gaze swept across the battlefield, cataloging the corpses, cores, and opportunities with a cold precision that sent chills down Shen Ming's spine.
In the middle of it all, Xian Yu swayed. His beautiful, androgynous face was pale, his lips drained of all color, sweat sliding down his delicate jawline. She saw his dedication, the way his trembling hands clutched the talisman-like staff that had become his focus in battle. He had been casting the healing power non-stop: barriers, area-wide heals, single-target blessings, regeneration pulses.
