The night was as thick and dark as spilled ink. A cool river of moonlight poured down, and as the earth fell silent, the alluring fragrance of night-blooming jasmine drifted from the tall trees.
A cool, quiet evening breeze blew, slowly winding its way through the dense forest.
Luu Fangliang spat out a mouthful of blood and sighed. "Look... Looking at the state of you, can you still hold on?"
At that moment, Wen Qingye was leaning against an old tree, his entire body dyed red with blood. Even the soil beneath his robes had turned crimson. His face was as pale as paper, utterly drained of color.
Wen Qingye slowly extended his hand, took out the Yangchun Wooden Box, and clutched it tightly. Shaking his head with a smile, he said, "I... I won't die."
Wen Qingye knew that as long as he had a single breath left, he would absolutely survive by relying on his Longevity Technique.
