Long Qing awoke and was greeted by a thick fog, rotten leaves carpeting the ground and endless pain in his entire body.
He could not find any reasonable answer for surviving a fall from the cliffs. Perhaps the trees above the mist had cushioned his fall, or maybe the thick yet soft carpet of rotten leaves and mud beneath him.
Long Qing felt that his survival was because of the will of Haotian, just like what he had said in his conversation with the uncle in the Zhishou Abbey. If he was really the legendary person in the prophecy who carried the will of Haotian, Haotian would not allow him to die so easily.
He had not died, and this fact gave him confidence, but at the same time it brought loss and fear. He did not know what to do with his life now.