A gentle breeze rustled through the sea of bamboo on the mountain, their verdant leaves whispering secrets in the wind, imbuing the air with a freshness that teemed with vitality. Amidst this tranquility, however, a faint scent of fresh blood permeated the air. 0

Wang Xuan sat shirtless, his upper body bared to the elements, as he meticulously inspected his injuries through the realm of his spirit. A bloody hole marred his chest, and his right lung bore four terrible gashes, rendering the organ torn and ragged. His back was a raw landscape of flesh, with his ribs faintly visible through the torn skin.3

In solemn reflection, he acknowledged that despite the perils he had faced since embarking on the path of ancient arts, he had never suffered such grievous wounds. He hadn't even come into direct contact with his assailant and had nearly lost his life to an attack from the skies.0

Had he been careless? No, he had been cautious, heeding early warnings and fleeing preemptively. In the end, it was a stark disparity in strength; even his trusted Golden Body Art had been insufficient to fend off the transcendent power of his enemy's enchanted arrows. This was the first time he had experienced such a brutal defeat.0

Zhao Qinghan ground the remaining few spiritual herbs to a paste and carefully applied them to Wang Xuan's external wounds. These injuries were severe, but the more critical damage lay within—his organs were shattered in places. For an ordinary person, survival would have been impossible.0

"Don't overthink it, just focus on healing," she said softly as she tended to his bandages.0

Nearby, Grandmaster Ma was grunting and snorting in pain, its wings and legs punctured and bleeding. The creature's horse-like cries suggested a stream of curses in...0