The howling gusts swept across the Pegasus Grassland, startling the cattle and sheep grazing below into chaos.
Zhao Yi stood atop the Golden Peacock, feeling the unparalleled swiftness, his heart full of amazement.
Indeed, a flying mount must be a bird.
Although the Dragon Race can also be ridden, both the driving experience and space are far inferior to avian mounts.
The Golden Peacock spread its wings, and its broad bird back was as large as a basketball court.
Its golden feathers were like a soft blanket; Zhao Yi sat atop it, sinking in completely, and sighed in comfort.
This experience was nothing compared to the cold, scaly sensation on Xu Yue'Er's back.
Most importantly, the Golden Peacock's flying technique was excellent.
Sitting on the bird's back, Zhao Yi barely felt a bump, as comfortable as lying on a bed.
In contrast, flight with Xu Yue'Er felt like a rollercoaster.
If Zhao Yi hadn't been robust, he would have been jolted into vomiting several times by her.
