In the silent jungle, a figure lay quietly on the weed-strewn ground.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches, illuminating a pale, handsome face. Morning dew dripped from the tips of leaves, falling drop by drop on the chapped lips.
The lips moved slightly, and Ronan awoke from unconsciousness.
"Cough... cough..."
Ronan struggled to sit up, and the next moment, his hands couldn't help but press against his head.
It felt as if countless tiny insects were jumping beneath his brow and temples, ready to burst through the skin.
At this moment, he felt like his brain had been forcibly filled with countless pieces of information and knowledge, continuously being stuffed inside.
This vast stream of information seemed to contain a complete and ancient inheritance, yet the infusion was still ongoing, and he could only decipher a small part.
"Spirit.. Spirit.. Heart..."
Ronan took a deep breath, enduring the splitting pain in his head, and slowly stood up from the grass.
