Chen Xuan took a sharp breath, staggered back two steps, and instinctively touched his cheek.
The feeling was rough, with stubble pricking his hand.
He examined his hands again, fingers thick and callouses solid, indeed resembling the palms of a middle-aged man who'd labored for half his life.
Could it be that he was possessing a corpse?
No... this thought had just emerged when he immediately dismissed it. If he were merely a soul floating onto this shell, all he'd have would be a severed neck cadaver, impossible for the wounds to heal and the heart to beat anew.
Considering this, Chen Xuan was slightly startled in his heart.
Did he truly have a heartbeat?
Whether hearing voices suddenly from behind or witnessing that scene in his memory, he never felt any movement from his chest, as if his surprise merely existed in his consciousness.
Chen Xuan placed his hand on his left chest for a moment... indeed, not even a slight tremor.
