Three hundred li east of the Mountain and Sea Empire Imperial City stood a low, ruined temple.
A middle-aged man with a pale, gaunt face was covered in blood. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, the wound stretching down to his ribs, a gruesome and horrifying sight.
"Damn it! I, Shi Hao, swear I'm not human if I don't get revenge for this!"
This was the same middle-aged man whose arm had been severed by Li Shimu.
He had fled to this place and, with great difficulty, managed to dispel the Power of Fortune lingering on his wound, finally stabilizing his condition.
Shi Hao raised his remaining arm, gently touched the point between his eyebrows, and used a Secret Technique to contact his Young Master.
"What is it?"
Once the connection was made, an extremely impatient young voice came from the other end, accompanied by the sound of a woman's playful laughter—a sound both unfamiliar and yet all too familiar.
