A low groan escaped Fang Jinyan's lips as he stirred, blood crusted on the corner of his mouth.
His vision blurred, but the sharp ache that pulsed through every bone in his body told him he was still alive.
(Was it… a dream?)
That thought flickered through his foggy mind.
But then—he turned his head slightly and saw the chaos around him.
Cracks ran across the once-pristine jade tiles of the Cloud Pavilion, broken fragments littering the steps like shattered glass. Dust still floated in the air.
His robes were torn, his Qi in disarray, and pain radiated from his chest with every breath.
(No... not a dream!)
The cold fear of reality began to sink in—and then he saw him.
Bai Zihan!
Descending the pavilion steps like a stroll through a garden, his hands clasped behind his back, his robes fluttering ever so slightly in the breeze.
"Finally woke up!"
Fang Jinyan's eyes widened in panic.
"No… no, no!"
He gasped, trying to crawl backward.
