Lin Zhenzhen couldn't care less about anything else for the moment. The instant the lightning dissipated, she took off running towards the unconscious Xuan Yuanzhao.

He lay amidst a dark, ruined landscape, his exposed skin bearing severe burn marks.

"Xuanyuan Zhao?" Lin Zhenzhen knelt down, gently cupped his head, and was about to channel healing spiritual energy into his body.

Suddenly, a cold, sharp blade was pressed against her throat.

Xuanyuan Zhao's spiritual power was exhausted, and he didn't even have the strength to open his eyes, but he still had strong muscle memory. The only weapon he had was the dagger his mother had left him.

"Don't be afraid, it's me, I'm Lingzhen."

Xuanyuan Zhao's eyes darted around under his eyelids, then he frowned and remained still.

Lin Zhenzhen gently grasped his hand holding the dagger and whispered, "It's all over. I'll take you back."

“Lingzhen?” Xuanyuan Zhao opened his eyes and saw a blurry outline.

Gradually, the outline became clearer, turning into a face that was all too familiar to me.

At this moment, my grandfather's voice echoed in my mind: Never entrust your back to others; the only person you can ever truly trust is yourself.

But the moment he saw Lingzhen, a tense corner in Xuanyuan Zhao's heart involuntarily relaxed.

For the first time, he wanted to let down his guard and show his most helpless side.

Xuanyuan Zhao blinked slowly, then moved the dagger away.

Lin Zhenzhen picked him up and was about to move when a loud bang came from above.

Another swift purple light shot straight toward the two of them.