Yet, the trajectory of fate at this moment seemed to be plucked by an invisible hand, hurtling toward an unexpected direction as a thrilling life-and-death showdown unfolded.
"I... I'm fine." Du Rong's voice was like a dying candle in the wind—frail yet as resilient as steel. The sound seemed squeezed out with great difficulty from the depths of his soul, every syllable carrying endless pain and unyielding defiance. Struggling like a trapped beast in the mud, he mustered all his strength and slowly dragged himself up from the dust-covered, freezing ground. Every movement felt like a bitter struggle against a towering, immensely heavy mountain. His body trembled violently, and huge beads of sweat rolled down his forehead like rain, pattering onto the ground and kicking up tiny specks of dust—a testament to his shattered yet stubborn hope. His chest was covered in blood, the fiercely burning, blindingly red stains spreading and blooming across his clothes like a desolating flower of blood in a dark abyss, breathtaking and startling. Yet, strangely enough, this seemingly fatal injury was, to Du Rong, nothing more than a superficial wound, as if some mysterious providence protected him, causing the grim reaper's scythe to dim and turn away in frustration.
"Hm? How is that possible?" The old man's previously squinted eyes widened instantly into copper bells, filled with a surging tide of shock. His wrinkled face resembled a lake lashed by a wild gale; his muscles twitched uncont…
Chapter 106