Henry Clark used all his strength just to open his eyes. His body and limbs were slowly regaining sensation, but he still couldn’t move.

Inside his abdomen, a cool sensation was seeping in. It must be the power of the medicinal pill, which had brought him back to consciousness and suppressed the surging energy within his meridians.

Looking around, he found himself still inside the carriage. The Cloud-Turning Car below had stopped, and mysterious black talisman patterns had appeared on the carriage walls.

At the center of the carriage floated a purple jade orb, about the size of a fist, suspended in midair, slowly rotating and radiating spiritual light.

“Is this a talisman array? A spiritual artifact?”

Henry Clark was momentarily stunned before recalling that Ethan was skilled in both spiritual and martial arts. She had enough mental power to activate this wind-barrier talisman array.

Presumably, this carriage and the extraordinary jade orb floating in midair were the means left behind by the father of Ethan, the man she had mentioned a few days ago who would one day shake the Cloud Realm.

With this array protecting the carriage, even if an innate martial artist arrived, it could still guarantee their safety for a while.

The Mad Blood Demon Saint, the Nine-Tailed Fox King—when their spiritual power first erupted, they were among the few supreme experts of the eastern Cloud Continent’s demon race. Once as dazzling as the blazing sun, they fell as swiftly as shooting stars, leaving countless people of later generations sighing in regret.

For some reason, the name that should have only evoked a passing sigh now felt incredibly close.

Henry Clark didn’t know if it was because the situation during his recent unconsciousness was so similar to the moment before the real Henry Clark “disappeared,” causing a resonance with the lingering soul, or for some other reason. In any case, all thirteen years of this person’s memories were now fully in his mind.

A favored child of heaven, fallen from grace. All those close to him had drifted away. He trained bitterly but achieved nothing. He left home to pursue the path of a spiritual master, but after three years, he was still regarded as a useless person, mocked and despised by even more people.

In the near future, he would become a puppet in someone else’s hands, suffer endless torment, and die a miserable death atop Mount Qiantian.

His head would be severed and hung by the next demon king of Mount Qiantian at the summit, his corpse displayed for three months!

His mind was still hazy, but in that instant, his chest and abdomen were filled with unwillingness and grief—

No matter what kind of pain, he could endure it. No matter how harsh the training, he could persist! But why was he unable to open his wheel meridian?

Could it be that he truly was useless? Was he destined to spend his life hiding under his father’s wing, living off his protection?

Absolutely not!

Chaotic thoughts flooded his mind. Henry Clark shook his head hard and forced himself to sit up. When the scene outside the window came into view again, his muscles instantly tensed. His ears, which had been temporarily deaf, suddenly picked up the surrounding sounds once more.

With a silent smile, Henry Clark moved his body slightly to warm up his limbs. Then, suddenly, he grabbed his sword and stood before the jade orb.

This talisman array isolated the inside and outside of the carriage; no one could enter, and he couldn’t leave either.

Fortunately, in his previous life, he had some research into the ways of spiritual masters and was especially skilled in talismanic arts.

Gathering energy at his fingertips, he tapped lightly on the spiritual light, severing the flowing spiritual energy completely.

The jade orb before him began to spin wildly, drifting about. The purple patterns on the carriage walls quickly faded.

Henry Clark paid it no more mind. Holding the Pine-Patterned Wind Sword, he dashed out through the carriage door in a single leap, landing steadily outside the carriage. Separated by the still-spinning wind barrier, he gazed into the distance.

The green expanse of the wilderness was now stained with streaks of blood. Five or six corpses lay scattered across it.

The setting sun was as red as blood. Vultures screeched in the sky, circling without descending.

Most of the bodies were beside the carriage, their throats torn open and crushed.

Seven hundred steps away, sandstorm raged, grass debris flying. Nearby, another figure lay on the ground—thin, with hands like bird claws, but the body was different from the Owen he had seen before. Lying face down, there was no sign of life.

Nearby, sword light cascaded like a waterfall, blade shadows surged like a tide. Dust and sand obscured the scene, making it nearly impossible to see the figures within.

Straining his eyes, he could just make out that William Harris’s chest had been pierced through. Half a broken blade was still lodged in the wound, and under the fierce sword light, he struggled to hold on.

What a fierce sword!

His gaze sharpened, and Henry Clark then looked toward the battered cat-eared girl not far away.

Her snow-white dress was now soaked in blood, revealing pale skin covered in gaping knife wounds.

“Ethan—”

Fragments of thirteen years of memories flashed before his eyes again—childhood sweethearts, innocent playmates.

Everyone saw him as a good-for-nothing, a half-breed, the shame of Mount Qiantian. Only Ethan never abandoned him.

Even knowing these were the memories of someone already dead, and that he had only known this cat-eared girl for less than half a month, Henry Clark still couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl up.

Carefree and a bit scatterbrained, but just seeing this girl made him feel warm inside.

But just as this smile appeared, it turned cold and fierce.

This was no longer a battle, but torture. With her heavily wounded body, she fought six opponents alone. Her steps were unsteady, on the verge of collapse, and the sword claws on her hands were full of openings, barely able to defend herself.