When Fang Lin clawed his way out of the grave, a thunderclap echoed across the sky. The fleeting flash of lightning illuminated Fang Lin's pale face.
"My cultivation..." Fang Lin muttered as he sat on the ground, covered in mud and water, looking thoroughly disheveled.
The most difficult thing for Fang Lin to accept, however, was that he could not sense the slightest trace of his own cultivation.
He clenched his fists. His physical strength remained, but the cultivation of a Great Longevity master had vanished entirely, completely unusable.
At this moment, Fang Lin was incapable of flight, unable to perform any martial arts techniques, or utilize any artifacts.
His body felt hollow, entirely devoid of cultivation—no more than an ordinary person who had never walked the path of martial arts, lacking even the lowest Human Origin level.
