Sima Zhao was trembling as if seized by malaria.
Dressed in a black robe that fluttered and shook wildly as if lashed by a fierce gale, his face was pale and completely drained of color. His eye sockets were deeply sunken, and his entire face was etched with profound exhaustion—he could not entirely immunize himself against the backlash suffered by the human-bone pagoda.
He himself was subjected to a degree of contamination.
Chapter 148