The petals, shaped like willow leaves, exuded a dreamlike color, elegant yet as thin as cicada wings, twenty-four in total, strung together and emanating a cold, blue glow.
It bore no branches or leaves, only a slender lone stem that did not compete with the magnificent blossoms above it.
Around the stem wrapped a thin mist-like silk, drifting upwards lightly in the water as if in a breeze. Yet, they were not attached to the stem but extended downwards, intertwining with the roots in the soil.
The pale jade luminescence reflected in the boy's eyes, faintly outlining his face and the blood-stained hair floating around him. In the dim light, the blood from his wounds formed ribbon-like shapes, rushing towards the flower and slowly infiltrating the petals.
Pei Ye had not anticipated this scene, nor the next—suddenly, the flower burst open, its petals flying towards him, sinking into his body from his fingertips.