Plop... plop... plop...
The cold rain fell on the desolate muddy ground in the dark night, also falling on the young man sitting there with his head lowered.
It wasn't until the boy let out a "hehe" laugh from his throat that there was a trace of vitality.
Song Yan completed a thorough examination and also learned from a simple hourglass timekeeping treasure pre-stored in the coffin that approximately ten years had passed.
In addition to everything being normal, he discovered the one anomaly.
His flawless divine soul was tainted... with a flaw.
The flaw was like a cold, ink-like black spot.
That blackness lay at the very center of his divine soul, and with careful perception and observation, he could also feel a tendency for it to spread outward.
Like a tiny drop of ink falling on clean rice paper, countless barbed thorns were growing like vine tendrils.
