The world tilted, then went soft at the edges.
Lin Tian hit the cold stone of the plaza floor, the impact a distant thud. A strange warmth spread across his chest, not the clean heat of Su Lan's fire or the glacial chill of Xueya's ice. This was a sickly, leaking sensation, like spiritual blood seeping from a hundred tiny cuts inside him.
Meridians. They're rupturing.
Voices crashed over him, distorted as if heard through water.
"Stand back!"
"Get a Medical Hall team here now!"
"He's bleeding qi from his pores, look!"
Footsteps pounded close. A familiar, clinical scent cut through the haze—herbs and clean linen. Su Lan's voice, sharp with professional alarm, right beside his ear. "Don't try to move. Your spiritual pathways are hemorrhaging. I need to seal them."
Her fingers pressed against his wrist, then his sternum. A thread of her fire qi slipped into him, a probe. It felt like pouring molten metal into a cracked clay pot. Lin Tian gasped, his back arching off the ground.
