Li Weiwu lay on the cold ground, his chest heaving violently as if he were on the brink of death. Every breath felt like his last, his body was growing steadily colder, and he seemed perhaps only a single step away from the grave.
Yet, possessing the robust vitality of a cultivator, it was no easy matter for him to die so simply.
His vision was already blurring, but his eyes remained locked onto Zhao Lingwu, for this man had utterly trampled his dignity and left him no path to survival whatsoever.
Chapter 285