After returning to his apartment, Yang Xiao, who had held on all day, had not eaten anything and collapsed onto his bed. The battle with the Pingxi Marquis had drained him of too much spiritual power, and he had exhausted his Magic Artifacts. Now, there was still a pulsating pain in his head.
He was extremely tired, but the more he felt like this, the less he could fall asleep. Once he closed his eyes, countless perilous scenes emerged in his mind, frame by frame, playing like a slideshow.
The head of the Pingxi Marquis, severed by his own hands, rolled onto the ground, its twisted face looking at him. Its mouth opened and closed as if speaking to him or, more like, giving a silent warning. No matter how much he resisted, he couldn't dispel it.
