Lu Ming clutched tightly at a pendant around his neck. He was gripping it so hard that his nails dug into his flesh, and fresh blood steadily oozed out.
The pendant, cast from bronze and no larger than a silkworm bean, had been sent back from afar by someone entrusted by Lu Ming's father before the accident. For the past six years, Lu Ming had kept it with him at all times.
The blood from his palm seeped out, flowing over the bronze pendant.
Chapter 1227