Fei Luoya stood with his hands behind his back as he rode the wind away, leaving behind a brisk silhouette. Li Qinghong managed to brush him off, and several Foundation Establishment cultivators, including Li Ximing, came to make a brief appearance of support before scattering, each rubbing his own head.
When Li Qinghong came back to her senses, only the hooked snake remained. She glanced at Li Wushao, whose complexion seemed even worse than a few days prior, the wounds on his hooked tail still far from healing. She inquired:
"Taoist Fellow, is your injury serious?"
The tail hook of Li Wushao had been grazed by that ashen-red flame and still throbbed with pain to this day. The pain was strange; it was felt not just physically but also flared up intermittently within his Spiritual Sense, torturing Li Wushao enough to make his complexion look dreadful.
Seeing this, Li Qinghong expressed her concern. Li Wushao waved his hand dismissively and replied:
