After successfully stopping Black Demon Number One's attack, Chen Pingchuan quickly strode over to Nightingale.
At this moment, Nightingale's condition wasn't just bad; it was exceptionally poor. Her face was as pale as paper, completely drained of color. Her once bright and captivating eyes had begun to dim. As her vitality ebbed away, her life seemed to be reaching its end. It felt as if she could be gone in the next second.
Chen Pingchuan gently held Nightingale's frail body, his own arms trembling slightly. He was afraid to apply any force, terrified of hurting her by accident. Nightingale was barely holding on to the last wisp of her spirit. Her lips moved slightly, a stubborn light flashing in her dim eyes. She struggled to raise her arm, her slender, pale hand reaching arduously toward Chen Pingchuan's cheek.
"I want to touch you..."
Nightingale didn't know why, but she desperately wanted to touch her handsome savior's face.
