When Bai Xiangdong arrived at the tavern, the roof had almost been completely blown off.
Amidst the explosions, Han Yu's room became an open-air space. After white flames shot up, a white dragon soared skyward.
The dragon's head was tightly wrapped in dozens of strands of liquid. Black smoke continuously rose from the liquid, and though it seemed to feel no pain, it crazily kept cracking open small mouths to gnaw at the flames on the dragon's body.
Boom!
With a thought from Han Yu, the white dragon exploded as soon as it reached a certain height, instantly turning the bothersome little things to ashes.
Seeing this, the seven or eight puppets turned to flee, their stiff bodies desperately trying to escape into the shadows under the stairs.
Han Yu tossed fire with both hands, illuminating the shadows on the ground in an instant, leaving the puppets with nowhere to hide and pathetically slow.
"Impertinent fools, trying to leave just like that."
