As the rainbow light converged once more, Jeming's figure reassembled, but his condition had become utterly wretched.
His robe remained undamaged, yet his exposed skin was covered with fine blood marks from the excessive activation of Spiritual Power.
His breathing was as heavy as an old bellows, and every intake of breath came with a burning pain in the lungs.
His Dantian was nearly depleted, and his Spiritual Power had dimmed under the continuous high-intensity consumption.
He landed on a cracked, grey-black land, looking around, only to find desolation and deathly silence.
In the distance, the horizon twisted with sparse heat waves, and the sky remained an oppressive leaden grey.
"One day..." Jeming muttered hoarsely to himself, clenching his teeth in frustration.
The deadly pursuit between him and the Sixth Level Wizard from the Tower of Annihilation had lasted an entire standard day.
