Pang felt nothing, which was peculiar. Why wouldn't he feel anger, sorrow, or fear? He had never even thought about experiencing a day like that.
What kind of experience was this for Pang? There was no sorrow, no anger, no fear.
In his heart, a sense of numbness spread, yet he still wanted to protect himself with his last ounce of strength, looking at the white fog where the man who clearly had no breath of life was.
It was like he was still wielding that relentless evil sword, killing countless times as if it were still firmly held in his hand!
His eyes were still as ferociously cold and determined as ever, undergoing the solemn rite; although he was clearly about to die, he seemed to mimic nothing but a proud eagle.
He extended his hand straight out... at last, the thread of life from Jiuyan.
To Jiuyan, it was like a horde of ants that had smelled sugar, rushing chaotically in the moment Jiuyan's body froze, as if wanting to engulf him.