Pain.
It spread through Shen Wu's chest.
He couldn't breathe.
Every breath burned like fire in his ribs.
His arms and legs twitched.
Blood poured out in slow, heavy pulses.
Above him, the pond's surface rippled like cracked glass. He could barely see the moonlight.
Is this how I die?
The thought drifted through Shen Wu's fading mind.
He stared through the water, eyes half-closed.
The stars above blurred and began to fade.
He heard footsteps retreating. Slow. Calm.
Then came a voice.
It was cold. It was familiar.
"Trash like you never belonged in the sect."
Silence followed.
Then—darkness.
Until the pain came again.
But this pain was different.
It wasn't from the wound.
It was deeper.
It felt like the world was ripping him apart, then forcing him back together.
And in that moment...
Shen Wu realized—he wasn't dead anymore.