Su Ming mumbled and lowered his head to look at his right hand. His body had already completely gained physical form and he looked no different than a body that possessed flesh and blood.
A long black robe manifested on him, and his black hair danced in the wind, forming a contrast with the white fog around him, causing him to appear faint and indistinct in the white fog.
That white fog was rapidly seeping into Su Ming’s body as he continued absorbing it.
Su Ming did not bother about that white fog. As his intelligence grew and his eyes began to gain a brilliant sparkle, he looked at his right hand, as if he was immersed in deep thought.
After a long while, when the final wisp of white fog seeped into his body, he stood alone at the empty land with his gaze still on his right hand.
Time trickled by. Several days later, Su Ming’s right hand moved up slowly, then once he pressed downwards, he seized the air.
Preview to next chapter: Is it the Same?
Gives you a glimpse of how many times Su Ming has died.