"Wine... give me wine..."
The muddled voice mixed with the wild winds of the desert, Wang Shunchen mumbled in a daze, but there was no response. A peculiar sound in the desert's voice stirred something within him, making his heart inexplicably restless, and his mind unsettled.
The sound was sharp, like a blade scraping across an icy surface.
It also resembled the sound of the most outstanding rider of the Western Regions, galloping on a swift horse, swinging a long whip, its tip carrying a blade cleaving through the void with a piercing sound.
It seemed as if someone was shaking his shoulders vigorously, shouting loudly: "...■■■■■■!!!"
In his bloodline, it felt as if needles made of iced shards were forming, the kind of terror seeming to stretch from memory to today. Wang Shunchen suddenly awoke, sitting up abruptly, panting heavily to calm his palpitating heart and his parched thirst.
