Fang Hao leaned on that charred stick, kneeling on one knee. There wasn't a single patch of intact flesh on his body, all bloody and mangled, looking as if he had been fished out of a blood pool in the eighteenth level of Hell and then deep-fried in a cauldron several times over.
Yet his back remained straight as an arrow, his head held high. His eyes shone like a wolf's, staring fixedly at the increasingly black Lightning Tribulation clouds above.
"Damn it all... this is killing me..." Every breath he took was laced with blood foam, his lungs burning with searing pain.
To have lasted until now, he himself felt it was a miracle. The previous sixteen lightning strikes had been full of variety and tricks, nearly finishing him off.
