Consciousness drifted in endless darkness, like a drowning man struggling to grasp a glimmer of light.
Excruciating pain radiated from his limbs, Meridians, organs, and even the depths of his Sea of Consciousness, like thousands of steel needles piercing him simultaneously, akin to being scorched by raging fire or stabbed by ice picks.
His Divine Soul felt as if it were being torn into countless fragments, swaying violently between Chaos and clarity.
Fang Hao felt like he was about to die.
That brief clash with the Golden Horned Thunder Python was the closest he had come to death since stepping onto the path of immortality.
The furious strike from a Peak Fourth-Stage Demon Beast, even after being blocked by the golden puppet and weakened by the Hundred Refinements Golden Body Art, had left residual lightning power that nearly destroyed his vitality.
