He did not know how much time had passed. Lu Xingchen had lost count of how many times he had tried. Each time he focused all his spirit on his palm, trying to gather even the faintest thread of light spirit power. The shadow gold on the shackles warmed slowly—the sign of light and shadow clashing. Sweat covered his forehead. His vision blurred, but he did not dare stop. Because he knew this was their only hope. "Enough." Shen Ye's voice suddenly sounded. "Rest." "No... almost there..." "Y...