The slow winds howled through the rocky desert, carrying the desert sand with it.
The sky above was fractured into large shards like mirrors.
And two figures lay in the middle of this strange land amidst fractured boulders and soft glimmers of distorted space hovering in the air.
One is a man with a missing right arm and his skin is laced with gashes and bruises, dried blood painting his face and chest.
The other one is a woman cradled gently in his remaining arm, and her body trembled faintly as breath slowly returned to her lungs.
Zhao Tian blinked slowly as the blinding light rushed into his vision.
There was no sun, but some dull illumination existed, just enough to see.
In the next second, pain shot through his entire body, and he turned his gaze to look at his arm, which is missing.
Charred flesh, torn muscle, cracked bone. Blood still dripped sluggishly, seeping into the sand beneath him.
