Surviving In A Martial Arts World To Become A Saint

Evening. Deep within the True Martial Peak's side hall, the candlelight was blazing, casting the interior in a warm, lamp-lit brightness.

Jiang Lishan sat cross-legged on the cushion, his face pale.

Cough cough.

A burst of violent coughing tore through the silence. He slowly opened his palm.

In the center of that palm lay a vivid and alarming patch of dark red.

He took a white silk cloth from beside him without expression, wiping the blood from his fingers and palm.

At that moment, the sound of urgent footsteps came from outside the hall door.

"Master!"

It was Luo Ping's voice.