Game World: I Can Share Talents

"Wan Qi! Save me!!"

However, his cries for help were like a stone sinking into the sea. Wan Qi didn't respond.

The worst-case scenario had occurred. In the spatio-temporal turbulence, his link with the Master of Extinction had been severed.

'This is a real disaster.'

That was Westheid's last thought before he lost consciousness.

Fainting was a distant memory for Duke Qinghui. Ever since he had taken great strides along the Path of Transcendence, he had rarely lost consciousness. It had been a long time since he'd slept so soundly.

This time, however, Westheid experienced the rare sensation of a deep slumber. When he regained consciousness, the first thing he perceived was a ray of warm sunlight on his eyelids.

Next came the return of his hearing and sense of touch.

The babbling sound of flowing water, and... the feeling of soft grass?

'Looks like the environment is safe, then?'

Westheid immediately opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of a vast, azure sky. White clouds drifted by with the gentle breeze that caressed his cheeks, leaving him in a bit of a daze.

But as he tried to sit up to check his injuries, he discovered a serious problem.

The small gash that had split his belly open hadn't healed at all. 'Withered Glory Sun, what are you doing, Withered Glory Sun!'

'My power... huh?'

Westheid was shocked to find that he had become incredibly weak. His power... was gone!

He was now exactly like a mortal who had never set foot on an Extraordinary Path!

This wasn't an injury caused by the Dragon God Illusion. No matter how domineering a Celestial God's projection was, it couldn't possibly seal a Demigod's path. 'Besides, I don't follow the Dragon's path, so on what grounds could the Dragon God seal my power?!'

'In other words... is this the effect of the spatio-temporal turbulence?'

Even having been reduced to a mortal body, Westheid didn't panic. A powerhouse is a powerhouse because of their all-encompassing strength and resilience. In this world, mental fortitude is even more important than physical strength. Naturally, Westheid wasn't some clown who would break down and scream.

Instead, he calmly got to his feet. The crucial thing now was to gather as much information as possible.

After walking a few steps forward, Westheid couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

'Where in the world did I end up? Am I even still in the country?'

Before him stretched a quiet, open field. Nestled at the foot of a hill was an ancient monastery, gently encircled by a lush green meadow.

Sunlight filtered through wispy clouds, sprinkling across the verdant carpet and making the dewdrops on the grass sparkle like diamonds. A gentle breeze blew past, causing the blades of grass to sway softly as if greeting the passing clouds.

The monastery was surrounded by crystal-clear, babbling streams. The waterways crisscrossed, dividing the fields of lavender. The water's surface reflected the blue sky and the monastery's silhouette, like a living oil painting. The streams shimmered under the sun, and occasionally, a few leaves would drift down, breaking the water's tranquility and stirring up tiny ripples.

The monastery's architecture was rustic yet exquisite. Its stone walls were covered in evergreen vines, yet the walls themselves were immaculately white. It looked as if someone was maintaining it, but that seemed highly unlikely.

Surrounded by greenery and streams, the monastery seemed like a fairy-tale holy land, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the mortal world. Birds sang cheerfully in the woods, their songs accompanied by the melody of the streams, adding a touch of life and vitality to the tranquil space. Here, time itself seemed to slow down, and a restless soul could find unprecedented purification.

Westheid had expected to find a shocking and brutal apocalyptic battlefield or a wasteland on the brink of destruction after the spatio-temporal turbulence. He never imagined he would find such an idyllic, pastoral scene.

He fell silent for a moment before heading down the hill. As he drew closer to the monastery, Westheid discovered that the magnificent building, standing amidst lavender, blue roses, and lush greenery, was even quieter than he had imagined. Its courtyard walls were covered in vines and blooming flowers.

It was utterly silent, seemingly deserted.

'But this place looks a little familiar. Have I been here before?'

Westheid stood at the entrance to the monastery's front courtyard, stroking his chin in thought.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, a soft cry interrupted the man's thoughts. Realizing someone was nearby, Westheid immediately looked toward the source of the sound and froze.

A white-haired girl carrying a bucket was walking out of the monastery, coming face-to-face with him.

Her hair flowed over her shoulders like a waterfall, each strand shimmering with a silver luster, as if woven from the threads of countless tiny stars.

Her features were as exquisite as a masterfully carved work of art, perfect from every angle—soft, yet well-defined. Her beauty was like that of a pear blossom blooming in the moonlight, pure and otherworldly.

Her clear, bright eyes were like two brilliant rubies, yet they held no hint of anything sinister. Instead, they radiated an ultimate purity and sweetness, as if holding a timeless song within them.

Her snow-white skin had a faint cherry-blossom pink hue, like the gentlest petals of spring. The slightly upturned corners of her mouth always carried a gentle smile that made one feel warm and welcome.

Westheid couldn't help but murmur, "Wan Qi..."

Although her appearance was different from that of the Master of Extinction, there was no doubt this was Wan Qi. She was a near-perfect match to the image in his memory.

However, the girl who looked like Wan Qi didn't respond to Westheid. Instead, she tilted her head, a confused expression on her face.

"How do you know my name?"

But her confusion lasted only a moment, as the white-haired girl had something more pressing to consider.

"You're hurt! It's a really bad wound, what happened? Don't move, I'll go get an injector right away!"

Only when Wan Qi said this did Westheid realize his consciousness was growing faint. Blood was streaming endlessly from his wound, staining a patch of the grass beneath his feet red.

He was so used to pain and injury that Westheid hadn't paid the wound any mind. He'd forgotten that for a mortal, excessive blood loss could actually be fatal.

"Then... I'll be in your care."

He was certain she was Wan Qi. He just didn't know what fraction of Wan Qi she was, or... which aspect of her.

But since it was Wan Qi, Westheid couldn't bring himself to be suspicious or defensive. He spoke weakly, deciding that no matter what, he had to stay alive first. He couldn't just die here.

The white-haired girl immediately dashed back into the monastery, rushing out again in just a few breaths' time. She threw a case onto the ground, kicked it open with brisk efficiency, and pulled out an injector.

"Please lie down. This might hurt a little, so hang in there. You've lost too much blood; we have to stop the bleeding immediately, so I have to use the most aggressive first-aid method."

"Is this... Nanorepair Liquid?"

Westheid looked at the device and immediately recognized it as high-tech from the Celestial Vault Kingdom. 'No... actually, it might not necessarily be from the Celestial Vault Kingdom.'

In the memories of the Master of Extinction, this kind of reagent was used quite often.

Wan Qi carefully helped Westheid lie down, then seriously picked up the injector and gave the man the shot.

"Mm, this isn't a very good model, so the anesthetic effect will be a bit weaker. Hang in there."

As the nanorepair agent took effect, Westheid's wound healed at a speed visible to the naked eye. As for the slight pain that came with it, Duke Qinghui simply ignored it. He just let out a long breath and asked Wan Qi,

"Where is this place?"

"What?"

Westheid's gaze was dead serious. "What is this country called?"

Wan Qi was very confused. "Xuli, of course!"

"Stop thinking about this. You need to rest now. Close your eyes and wait for the medicine to take full effect."

'Xuli?'

'What year is it?!'

Westheid wanted to ask Wan Qi more, but the medicine was already working with immediate effect. An intense wave of fatigue washed over him. This body, which had lost all its power, could no longer suppress its physiological responses.

And so, not long after waking up, Westheid fell unconscious once more.