Zuo Mingyu gasped, a sudden chill running down his spine. The face of this expert, who had long since stepped into the Venerable Realm, turned pale. A flash of fear flickered in his clear, youthful eyes, and he remained silent for a long time.
The Scripture Pavilion was deathly quiet, so much so that even the sound of breathing could be heard. In truth, at their realm, they had no need to breathe like mortals.
But at this very moment, Zuo Mingyu was indeed breathing heavily. He suddenly felt that it was good to be alive—truly, wonderfully good. The feeling... was stronger than ever before.
"Really?" After a long, long time, Zuo Mingyu finally asked in a hollow voice. But his expression had already told him the answer. He believed it.
Asking the question was like a fish, about to be scaled and gutted, hoping it was still swimming free in a great river and not trapped in a person's basin.
