In the golden hall, radiance flowed endlessly.
Fang Cheng sat on the high Golden Throne, his back pressed against the cold chair.
He slightly raised his chin, his gaze locked onto the particularly dim Star at the edge of the dome sky.
That was the consciousness coordinate belonging to the Fire Dragon.
With the experience of previously pulling Lin Chuqiao and the Professor, Fang Cheng appeared quite adept at the moment.
His eyelids half-closed, and two golden lights suddenly illuminated deep within his pupils, piercing through the void as if tangible.
"Buzz—"
Invisible spiritual ripples surged outward like a tide from the throne, instantly crossing the spatial barrier.
His mind turned into a golden sword, effortlessly piercing the pale gray mist surrounding the Fire Dragon's consciousness.
Meanwhile, in the real world.
In the underground black clinic of Jinshui Fish Market, the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant.
