At this point, seeing her son fully conscious and speaking normally, the crisis of being in a vegetative state was naturally over. The next worry, of course, was about the injuries to the child’s internal organs. Dr. Sullivan said his injuries were very severe, and even if treated, he would likely be left with aftereffects, making everyday activities difficult, especially anything requiring strength.

Helen Carter was extremely worried. Amid her relief, she began to think about the long term. People are like this: they first focus on the immediate situation, but once the crisis passes, as a mother, Helen Carter naturally started thinking about her son’s future.

What should she do? Ethan was still very young, and now that more than half the summer vacation had passed, her son’s junior year of college was about to begin. But with injuries like his, there was absolutely no way he could recover in such a short time. It seemed she would have to arrange for him to take a leave of absence in a few days. He loved sports, usually playing basketball and soccer. If he found out that even moving would be difficult for him in the future, he probably wouldn’t be able to accept it at all. But this matter could be postponed for a while. After all, her son had woken up and was lucky to have survived—other issues could be handled by her and her husband. But that damned driver, after hitting someone, actually fled the scene and couldn’t be found. Truly hateful!

“Who are you?” The young man on the bed suddenly spoke, nearly startling Helen Carter out of her thoughts. She looked around and confirmed that her son was talking to her. A trace of doubt and worry flashed in her eyes. She glanced at Dr. Smith, then finally looked at her son, waving her hand in front of the young man’s eyes. “Ethan, how many fingers is this?” Her first thought was that her son’s brain was fine, but maybe his eyes had been injured—otherwise, how could he not recognize his own mother who had raised him for over twenty years?

There was a hint of confusion in his eyes. The young man on the bed slowly said, “Ethan?” The shock in his gaze had faded, replaced by even deeper puzzlement. He quickly glanced at the people around him—all unfamiliar faces, dressed in strange clothes, with odd appearances, and the unfamiliar environment was like nothing he had ever seen.

Where am I? Who are they? They didn’t seem hostile toward him, but he was seriously injured and couldn’t muster even a trace of inner energy. Although he was inwardly shocked, he had weathered many storms and hardships, and as the top expert under Marshal Johnson, his spirit was as tough as iron. In this moment, he had already regained his composure.

A faint pain throbbed in his mind, as if an unknown monster with four wheels had crashed into him, sending him flying. No, that wasn’t him—that was a frail young man, dressed somewhat like these strange people before him. But why did this image appear in his mind? Why did he feel that the young man was himself?

Although these people looked similar to him, why were they dressed so bizarrely?

But that vision was instantly suppressed by a cold, arrogant face.

Matthew Bennett! He shouted again, nearly scaring Dr. Smith in front of him into falling to the ground.

He truly hadn’t expected that Matthew Bennett’s “Thirteen Limitless Skills” had reached a level no less than his own. Coupled with the unpredictable moves of Ashley Bennett, he had gradually begun to fall behind.

With no other choice, he had used the “Soul-Separating and Spirit-Leaving” technique from the Nine Farewells and Eighteen Partings, a move even he couldn’t fully control. He only remembered that the two of them had clashed with sword and blade—a strike that shook the heavens and earth. He was gravely injured, but seeing the two of them spewing blood, Eric Foster knew that Matthew Bennett and Ashley Bennett hadn’t fared much better.

He was Eric Foster, the “Heaven-Questioning Sword” Eric Foster, the top expert under Marshal Johnson. No one could get the better of him—not even the Demon Blade Matthew Bennett!

Yet the more his Farewell techniques were thwarted, the more powerful they became. After unleashing the Soul-Separating and Spirit-Leaving move, he no longer cared about the outcome—he just wanted to use the momentum to kill the two of them and eliminate Marshal Johnson’s greatest threat. He hadn’t expected a sudden heat in his chest, followed by a dazzling light enveloping him, and in the next instant, he lost consciousness.

The silver bottle? That piece of jade? An innocent face appeared in his mind, a mischievous smile at the corner of her lips, as she reached out and put a strange piece of jade around his neck. “Bieli, I want you to think of me. Every time you see this jade, think of me once.”

Gentle light flashed in eyes as clear as autumn water. If anyone saw Olivia Johnson at this moment, they would never imagine she was the famous Yaksha Spear General of the Song-Jin battlefield.

Every time she went to war, Olivia Johnson wore a Yaksha mask, hiding her beautiful face. But the dragon spear in her hand was wielded with unmatched skill. People said the Yaksha Spear General’s martial arts had already surpassed George Washington, who also used a spear—the Li Quan Dragon Spear, a divine weapon as renowned as the “Heaven-Questioning Sword” and the “Blazing Blade.”

No one knew that the fearsome Yaksha Spear General was actually a seemingly frail young woman, and even Marshal Johnson’s daughter. Fewer still knew that the Li Quan Dragon Spear was originally two spears—one used by Marshal Johnson, and the other given to his beloved daughter.

The Li Quan Dragon Spear was originally called the Li Quan Dragon Phoenix Spear!