Water mist filled the top of the thousand-meter-high cliff, gathering on the rocks to form condensation and dripping on the old man's forehead.
The slight impact and cold body sensation allowed Hilliard, who was about to lose consciousness, to regain his consciousness.
He steeled himself, opened his eyes, and saw streaks of thunder crashing down beside him, turning into huge electric arcs visible to the naked eye, flickering in the air.
The old knight raised his head and stared at this scene.
The strong light impact brought by lightning forced his thoughts that were about to stop to start. His eyes gradually changed from lax to radiant, allowing him to truly observe everything in front of him.
A body that had turned into pitch black charcoal, and a young man from the White people who fell into a pool of water.
The battle is over.
One party is dead, and the other party is still breathing.
Subconsciously trying to get up, Hilliard found that he could no longer control his legs. He stretched out his hand and pinched it to make sure that the nerves in his legs were intact, but he lacked the strength to lift them.
No...not power.
It's life.
"Well, it's really coming to an end."
Although he had had a premonition, but he was sure that he was indeed about to reach the limit of his life, Hilliard still couldn't help but sigh.
He is not afraid of death. Rather, he feels that he has already died.
The messenger of death will kill everything about a person in sequence, first consuming his fighting spirit to question the world, secondly distorting his spirit of understanding the world, and finally aging his physical body that changes the world.
As early as decades ago, Hilliard had lost his fighting spirit, his spirit had become disorganized, and his body had become so rotten that he could no longer move.
And all the great deeds he and the king had done were distorted, tampered with, and cut apart, and all the remaining disciples and successors were wiped out...
Only the remaining half has become as pitiful, sad and hateful as it is now.
"Wiggs... you are just an undead wandering in the past. Although your body is younger than mine, your heart is already dead."
Closing his eyes, Hilliard didn't know whether his current emotions were regret, hatred, or simple emotion.
He just couldn't help but recall those fragments of the past, those bright days, the children's energetic shouts in the training ground, and himself standing on the stage, full of hope to give guidance and guidance to the future successors.
Those who used to laugh are no longer seen, they are all dead.
Only Wiggs and himself were left.
Everything has disappeared in the wind, like tears in the rain.
Can I really be considered a living person? Rather than an undead forcefully staying in this world and not dissipating for decades?
The water droplets crossed the old man's face, but he smiled instead: "Whatever."
"At least now, I'm still alive."
The aging knight slowly stood up.
Everyone knows that sublimators at the third energy level and above can control the physical body with their own will, bypassing all nervous system transmissions, and achieving direct control of the physical body by the 'spirit'.
This technique of reducing reaction time to '0' and controlling the power of the body with will is the essence of life spiritual energy.
That is to say, an incredible miracle emerges from one's own body and one's own will.
"Ian...what a mess, the seeds of the Somo wine tree..."
Staggering to Ian's side, the old man moved the young man's body with some difficulty to the back of the rock where he could avoid the lightning.
He stretched out his hand, opened Ian's eyelids, observed the pupils, then gathered the last bit of source matter in his palm, and pressed it on Ian's chest.
"Fortunately, I'm not completely dead."
Noticing that the water-colored spiritual light in Ian's eyeballs was still flickering and not extinguished, and that his heart was still beating, the old knight's eyes moved slightly and he breathed a sigh of relief: "The alcohol poison has spread throughout the body and passed through the blood and brain.
barrier, but the source species are of high quality, naturally adsorbing a large amount of toxic sources, and what is sublimated is the liver, which removes toxins in a timely manner without causing systemic nerve necrosis."
"But the toxic stimulants in the brain are difficult to remove... If this continues, even if you can survive, it will cause permanent sequelae."
After a moment of silence, Hilliard shook his head: "Such a smart brain cannot be wasted like this."
At this moment, streaks of green-blue fluorescence rose near Caotan Cliff.
Due to several consecutive thunders, the minehunting jellyfish scattered in the surrounding waters began to gather spontaneously.
Dots of lightning converged from all directions. They flickered, flowed, and rotated, intertwining and weaving in the dark sea and sky, as if outlining a hazy galaxy under the sky.
Thousands of thunder-hunting jellyfish were supposed to dance around the top of the Caotan Cliff, where they would share their thoughts, souls, and brains, transmitting their wisdom in the lightning that was so rich that it was almost tangible.
Those exploding electric arcs and intertwining streams of light are all a burst of inspiration, a transmission of information, and the thinking process of the 'Thunderhunting Jellyfish Cluster', a sublimated life form.
It is precisely by relying on such dances and rituals, as well as the thunder and lightning that stretches across the sky and the earth, that they can become a true swarm of monsters.
But, today.
This dance, filled with thunder and light, stopped.
The thunderhunting jellyfish, which were densely packed and followed the churning of water vapor and rain clouds and used magnetic fields to lift themselves into the sky, did not get close to the Waitan Cliff that they were familiar with.
On the contrary, they floated in that direction cautiously, respectfully, and even fearfully, reluctant to move forward.
The beasts retreated.
Because on the top of the cliff, there is an old man burning his last life.
It seems like the pressure of a giant dragon and the majesty of a mountain.
There has never been anything similar since ancient times, and there may not be anything like it in the future. The sublimated person sitting on the "top throne" ignites the glory of being a life that walks in the human world and is the top of the ecological circle.
His whole body was burning with light golden mist of source light, and the gray marks on his body rapidly expanded and spread.
Hilliard raised his hand, and without hesitation he inserted his hand into the wound on his abdomen, going deep into it without any feeling, tearing the flesh and blood, expanding the wound, and searching for something.
Then, he took out a 'core' with a pure golden halo flowing through it.
The inscription structure, which is so densely packed that it is impossible to see its details, flickers and flows on this constantly changing and undulating golden core. The substantial breath of the source is bound in a ball that looks like liquid metal, just like the life of the entity itself.
.
As the arc lightning flashes, bright colors fill the cliff top.
The golden core seems to be the center of the world.
But, you can see it.
Above the gold core, there is still a small stream of silver light...
It is a chip, as thin as a cicada's wing, but the complexity of the runes on it is thousands of times greater than that of the core.
The extremely fine inscriptions are uncertain, like hundreds of millions of stars condensed into this small chip, and the vast Milky Way cannot compare with it.
The light shone on Ian's eyes. Because he was completely intoxicated, even if the boy was still alive, he would not be able to react to all this.
But... it can be vaguely seen.
What was reflected in Ian's eyes was not grey, white, blue or purple, nor any of these common colors.
Not even...gold.
The colors reflected in the water-colored spiritual radiance...
It is an endless cycle, just like the bright light of the rainbow!