I heard you had a white moonlight who died young.

Lightning shattered one barrier, and he immediately rebuilt another, one after another. Later, Fan Zhiyi got smarter; he built several in a row, and he actually made it to the tree.

Actually, the lightning did have its advantages; at least it prevented the vines from getting any closer. The downside was, damn it, it hurt! Fan Zhiyi's multiple layers of barriers were instantly shattered by the lightning at the very center. He was struck several times before his creations were destroyed.

Fan Zhiyi cut open the tree, not caring about anything else at this moment. He used his hands to peel off the bark, his fingertips bleeding profusely from the poisonous sap. His flesh corroded, revealing his bones.

Fan Zhiyi tilted his head back and shouted, forcefully breaking the tree open. He finally saw the red, pulsating thing clearly. It was blood red, somewhat transparent, and surrounded by a layer of ghostly energy. It seemed to be larger than before, and its texture was sticky. He could vaguely see a human figure inside. Fan Zhiyi was certain that it was Bing Nandong.

Fan Zhiyi reached out to touch it, but his hand melted into the sphere before he could actually touch it. Fan Zhiyi felt as if his hand was about to break, and a chilling sensation surged through his body.

I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die...

I was wrong, I was really wrong...

I didn't mean to...

Various voices echoed in Fan Zhiyi's mind—the resentment of others, the emotions of others touched by ghostly energy, just like when he absorbed the spiritual power within Bing Nandong. For some reason, Fan Zhiyi suddenly thought of that time, finding it very similar.

He endured the pain and reached inside, grabbing Bing Nandong. He channeled his spiritual energy in and sensed that the other man was still alive. He immediately tried fiercely to drag him out.

Just then, the thunder stopped, and the tree, knowing someone was coming to steal its fruit, went berserk and began attacking Fan Zhiyi.

Having been struck by a bolt of lightning, it seemed to grow even thicker, with barbs sprouting from its vines that could transform into sharp hooks as it charged toward Fan Zhiyi.

This was his only chance, and Fan Zhiyi dared not gamble. If he let go, it might be even more troublesome if he wanted to contact Bing Nandong again. After all, judging from the current situation, if this tree, the Fusang God, were struck by heavenly lightning, it seemed to become even more powerful. Moreover, even if Fan Zhiyi could wait for the right opportunity, Bing Nandong couldn't. If he were absorbed by this tree and not even a trace of bone remained, where would he go to cry about losing his disciple?

So Fan Zhiyi grabbed Bing Nandong tightly with one hand, and with the other hand he made a hand seal. In an instant, a flash of inspiration appeared, illuminating half the sky.

Fan Zhiyi felt his spiritual energy rapidly draining away, his meridians aching, and flames raging around him, turning the surrounding area into a sea of ​​fire.

The flames devoured the vines and illuminated Fan Zhiyi's face.

However, some vines managed to dodge the flames and rushed towards Fan Zhiyi, who grabbed them with one hand while keeping his other hand firmly on Bing Nandong.

He had already dragged out most of Bing Nandong's body and changed to a half-squatting position. In order to avoid the vines hurting Bing Nandong, Fan Zhiyi even half-hug his upper body, holding him tightly in his arms and dragging him out.

Hang in there, Bingnan Dong! Don't die!

The ghostly energy continued to pour in. Fan Zhiyi could now see clearly that the ghostly energy was flowing into the red fruit in the tree, or more accurately, into Bing Nandong's body.

Just then, Fan Zhiyi heard the voice of the Fusang God: "Fan Zhiyi, wouldn't it be better to become me with him? You can be together forever and never have to be afraid of being alone again."

Fan Zhiyi was somewhat unsettled and dizzy. In that instant, a vine pierced his chest. If Fan Zhiyi hadn't reacted to the danger and turned to the side, he probably would have suffered cardiac arrest.

The intense pain made Fan Zhiyi swear, and then he felt a pair of hands wrap around his waist and hug him tightly.

cold.

This was Fan Zhiyi's first feeling; it was incredibly cold, as if he were hugging a block of ice.

That's bizarre.

This feeling came from the bottom of his heart, as if he were being tightly bound by an evil spirit, his lifeline gripped, making it hard to breathe, and impossible to escape. This fear spread from his heart, making him feel repulsed and uneasy, even more panicked than everything else here. He even doubted whether he had saved Bing Nandong.

But before he could even register what was happening, the eerie energy swirled around Fan Zhiyi and Bing Nandong, forming a hurricane that was impervious to lightning. The lightning struck, but it couldn't pierce through them. Fan Zhiyi and Bing Nandong's clothes and hair were all whipped up. Fan Zhiyi dared not close his eyes, so he could only keep them half-open, while at the same time he tried his best to drag Bing Nandong away.

Then, a sudden change occurred. Endless ghostly energy enveloped and devoured everything. Fan Zhiyi watched helplessly as the tree gradually merged into the ghostly energy, including the red fruit, while the vine that pierced him turned to ashes. Only the pain from the wound remained clear.

All around were screams of agony, and coupled with the flames summoned by Fan Zhiyi, it was a scene straight out of hell.

"Zhuang Yujing." Fan Zhiyi covered his ears as if he suddenly remembered, broke free from Bing Nandong's embrace, turned his head to look, and then someone covered his eyes.

It was as if he had been entangled by a dark and damp snake. Even though he was in the flames, Fan Zhiyi still felt cold. He shivered and then felt something pressing tightly against his bandaged neck. Immediately, his nerves tensed up, and then he was restrained at the shoulder and pulled into an embrace.

The person holding him was bent over, so Fan Zhiyi also had to bend over and use one hand to support himself on the ground to keep from falling. In this way, it seemed that he was completely and well shielded beneath them, with someone taking all the risks for him.

Even so, the eerie and chilling aura still made Fan Zhiyi tremble uncontrollably.

"I don't like you calling other people that." It was Bing Nandong's voice, light and airy, as if it would dissipate with a gust of wind.

“Bingnan Dong…you…”

"Don't look." Bing Nandong raised his eyes, his bright but cold gaze sweeping over everything, including the endless stream of ghostly energy flowing into his body, the unconscious Zhuang Yujing in the distant barrier, and the Fusang Temple.

Bing Nandong narrowed his eyes, and with a wave of his hand, the ghostly energy destroyed the Fusang Temple.

Bing Nandong then hugged Fan Zhiyi tightly, holding onto his precious treasure.

He tried his best to protect him, preventing any ghostly energy from harming him, but he was in so much pain. It felt as if his body had been slashed open by millions of tiny knives, then reassembled and stitched back together. Even his consciousness was starting to feel like it wasn't his own anymore. His head was throbbing with pain, and thousands of people were screaming in his mind.

Black blood dripped from Bing Nandong's mouth, but he didn't utter a sound. He just silently held Fan Zhiyi, looking at Fan Zhiyi's horribly injured hands with affection, not daring to touch them.