In the darkness, Gu Jianlin raised the index finger of his right hand, a droplet of golden blood gleaming brilliantly at his fingertip.
It was clearly just a single drop of blood, yet it radiated an intense, sweet metallic scent.
Like a poisonous fruit growing on a toxic tree, bright and lethal—both dangerous and alluring.
For a brief moment, all five people, including the mentor, held their breath.
Especially the mentor, whose eyes betrayed unrestrained eagerness and yearning, as if he had glimpsed a glimmer of hope for survival.
"Look, the Ancient God's Blood you crave."
Gu Jianlin said indifferently: "I might be able to understand the terror of a mind polluted, a body distorted and collapsing, life nearing its end. But the question is, how do you prove yourselves worthy of it?"
In the deathly silence, the sound of strained breathing and pounding hearts was unmistakable.
"As long as you are willing to grant us the Ancient God's Blood, we will prove our value."
