“With his own hands, Chu Xun ripped open the gash in his chest, dug into his flesh, and grabbed his no-longer beating heart. Slowly, inch by inch, he tore it out. Blood dripped from the heart, which was enveloped in a golden-red flame. It was Chu Xun’s spiritual core, the last flare of light from a candle that had burned out. “Take…it…” He lifted the flaming heart and held it out in front of him. “Take it…take…it…” Droplets of blood fell only to become so many red haitang blossoms, flaring brilliantly as they drifted downward.”