A faint light in the dark room, the flickering shadows of the candle cast a crimson glow.
The already dim lantern seemed on the verge of toppling within an instant.
But it was merely a threat, just as perceived earlier—the flame behind the lantern corresponded to a vitality far surpassing its own essence.
Even after the transformation into a Pseudo-Divine Being, there was a peculiar misalignment and detachment, making its connection to the core less taut.
Yet as a top-tier expert in fleshwork, preserving just a few percentage points was sufficient to achieve remarkable effects.
The tangible manifestation lay in the flame, which resisted extinction regardless of the degree of compression brought upon it.
Fortunately, Fu Qian's breath was long enough.
Confronted with such resilience, he showed not a trace of hesitation, maintaining his actions with unwavering steadiness—even the flow of his breath remained perfectly constant.
"Are you insane?"
