Cheng Luo's eyes sparkled brightly as she looked at Tianmiao excitedly: "Sister Tianmiao, this is all so amazing, I know I'm not dreaming. But everything is more dreamlike than a dream. So, Sister Tianmiao, who are you? Are you an elf wandering this desert? Or the Guardian God of this desert?"
The King and the old State Preceptor also looked at Tianmiao, this was the question they wanted to ask too.
"Neither, you know." Tianmiao smiled, then glanced at the burning black soul, her tone changed as she coldly said, "You fool with heinous crimes. Who gave you the audacity to say everything you did was heaven's instruction?"
With a gentle tap of her finger, the red flames disappeared. The black figure, like a pile of mud, lay on the ground, panting heavily. She herself did not understand; she was long dead, so why was she still able to pant like this? Wanting to die, but unable to, was a feeling too painful to bear.
