"This game, I, Shiyu Genmi, have won!"
Shiyu Ling knelt on the ground, subconsciously pressing down on Gongsun Ce's wound.
Her hands were covered in blood, and as the ground violently lifted into the air, the roaring sounds of the wind pressure and the dark dome above reminded her of the days she had spent pigeon-flying in the Sky Capital.
It was only two months ago, yet it felt as distant as a century.
Back then she was genuinely joyous, thinking that with Shiyu Genmi dead, revenge was served, and no one in this world could restrain her movements anymore. The power of the Monarch Dragon, forget about it—following such a foolish person to fight a few dragon lunatics and then withdrawing from the chaotic scene felt just right.
