Xu Xiansu was inside the titanic, dark mouth of the fallen three-legged Golden Crow, a creature of myth whose size rivaled an entire star, now lying dead upon the scarred Eastern Region battlefield.
She had crawled deep within, seeking the primal core of its power, using its remaining rapidly dissipating warmth along with the viscous, glowing golden essence blood to awaken her long-dormant, legendary physique.
The air inside the maw was thick with the scent of roasted meat and ancient, potent divinity, a heat that would have vaporized any lesser cultivator instantly.
She felt that familiar, excoriating burning sensation from her past life begin to take hold.
Her blood was actively boiling within her veins, sizzling against her muscle walls, and her innards felt as if they were getting cooked by a concentrated solar flare.
Every nerve ending was a conductor of absolute agony, a testament to the fact that divine power was not granted, but forged in the fires of suffering.
