Resting

After everything that had transpired, Xiao Ming's spirit was weak, his exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He needed rest—urgently.

A fleeting image of the cute red flame horse crossed his mind.

When he left the sect, he had deliberately chosen not to bring Little Flame along, preferring to keep a low profile and avoid drawing too much attention.

But now, as weariness crept over him, he regretted that decision. Having the fiery steed by his side would have made his journey easier.

To the outside world, he had just displayed an unshakable, domineering presence—courageous, unyielding, and decisive.

Yet, in truth, it was nothing more than an act—a masterful performance of resilience. His endurance against battle pressure was at its absolute limit.

If anyone else had been in his place, subjected to the relentless bursts of Xiyu's energy flowing through their meridians, they would have exploded like an overfilled balloon long ago.