"If you want it, you will have to come and take it yourself."
An Jing stood up, the plates of his Taibai battle armor clattering as they fell away. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he felt as though his internal organs were being burned to ash; the chaotic Spirit-Evil was surging through him in a violent, uncontrollable state.
If his meridians and flesh were not exceptionally resilient, that single strike from the Great Centipede Dragon would have sent him spiraling into cultivation deviation or even the brink of death.
Chapter 875