As Grey was flung away, his body tumbling helplessly through the shattered air, a bald figure stepped forward from the dust-choked ruins below.
The bald donkey emerged slowly, his robes torn and soaked with blood, his once arrogant posture now bent under invisible pressure.
"Miss, why did you attack me?" he asked, his voice trembling with grievance and disbelief.
His body looked completely battered. Bones that should have been shattered were already knitting back together, torn flesh sealing itself as if rewinding time. Yet every second of regeneration drained him further. The healing was fast, but the cost was enormous.
Energy poured out of him like water leaking from a cracked vessel.
Under normal circumstances, this kind of injury would not have been fatal to him. If it were the Law of Fire or even the Law of Lightning, foreign energy invading the body could be isolated and expelled through cultivation circulation. Painful, yes, but manageable.
