The ground beneath him was stained a glaring, crimson red.
Yet, Chu He's eyes held no trace of pity or sympathy.
His gaze was icy and tranquil.
It was the look of someone gazing down upon an insignificant ant, utterly indifferent to its life or death.
Chu He's long, well-defined hand rose slowly.
A soft, pure white light gradually condensed in his palm.
It seemed to have a life of its own, slowly surging and churning,
...like the sacred nectar gushing forth from the legendary Jasper Pool,
...radiating an intoxicating, gentle aura and a brilliant glow.
The light, like graceful threads of silk, drifted softly onto Qu Yuxiu's ravaged body.
In that instant, Qu Yuxiu felt as if he were standing on a patch of ancient, barren earth.
He was that parched, cracked soil, eroded by centuries of wind and rain, baked by the scorching sun.
But now, this pure white light was like a long-awaited spring rain, come to nourish all things.
