As the final wave of attacks ceases, the Candle Dragon's looming shadow gradually dissipates under the moonlight. Zhu Ye, covered in scars, falls heavily back to the ground, stirring up a cloud of blood-colored dust.
Several fierce slashes tear through the moonlit barrier, leaving ghastly wounds on the Candle Dragon's corporeal form. The forcible use of Mythical Mimicry further worsens Zhu Ye's condition, with twisted Spiritual Energy yet to subside, and blood continuously spilling from the corner of his mouth.
"This time, it's really quite embarrassing." Zhu Ye spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva: "Got caught in a nasty trap. Those 'Shang' things usually show up when a Champion ascends to Supreme. Didn't really expect that..."
Dawn looked down at the black liquid dripping from his arm, his voice filled with satisfied malice: "Indeed a bit tricky. Why include me in dealing with you guys?"
