Zhao Li Xin stretched out his hand. A moment later, a figure materialized out of thin air and collapsed onto the cold floor—it was Lucas.
Barely a second passed before Lucas's body jerked violently, as if something deep within him was struggling to break free. The sudden convulsion sent a jolt of panic through the room. Everyone's face turned pale with anxiety.
Without hesitation, Zhao Li Xin stepped forward and pressed his palm firmly against Lucas's chest. Flames surged from his hand, flowing into Lucas's body and igniting him from within.
Fire coursed through Lucas's veins like molten rivers, illuminating the faint outline of red, parasitic roots that coiled around his organs. Zhao Li Xin could feel them writhing beneath the surface, resisting him, stubbornly clinging tightly, refusing to die.
But his flame was faster. Stronger. More relentless.
