The dumb female Xuan Long had protected was now a broken beggar on the verge of total madness.
An Mo stepped closer, his nose wrinkling at the smell, but his eyes narrowed as he looked at her forehead.
He saw it then...the faint, pulsing veins of black energy crawling under her skin.
"Black magic…" An Mo muttered, his expression stiffening. "What have they done to you? Why has this black magic been infused into your frail body?"
And most importantly...how was she still alive with such a large amount of black energy in her body? If it were anyone else, they would have died long ago.
He reached out a hand, his fingers glowing with a soft, golden light.
As he touched her matted hair, a bright flash of light erupted between them, enveloping the small, dirty figure of the past Su Qinglan.
In that moment of contact, An Mo's consciousness was pulled into the whirlwind of her life.
