The tip of his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, and heavy breathing came from Ye Fengsheng's voice. Each breath seemed to exhaust all his strength. At the moment the bruises on his skin violently erupted, he felt an unprecedented relief. It was too late to relax. Without the protection of his skin, his flesh started to experience a nerve-racking pain in the air. Ye Fengsheng could not endure such agony. His knees were weak, but he did not collapse due to consciousness.
Nevertheless, he was on the brink of death.
Even though his organs were injured, just as Ye Fengsheng's consciousness began to fade, a blue-white Elf transformed into a dense mist, completely enveloping him.
Even if this figure could not feel the presence of omens, it could still detect the existence of a warm liquid slowly seeping from the wounds, stimulating the meridians and blood vessels inside his body, while a vigorous warm air swirled around the acupoints.
"Hum..."
