Feng Jiu halted her steps, watching them with a cold gaze. Yet the oppressive aura weighing down upon them did not recede. Not only did it not recede, but she flipped her palm, sending a ball of her innate heavenly flame hurtling toward the soles of those monarchs' feet.
"Let you taste this death roasted over flames. Perhaps you'll find it to your liking." Her indifferent voice carried a chill as she watched coldly, her eyes devoid of any warmth.
Yet among these monarchs, she spared only the Nancheng Monarch. But even without Feng Jiu's direct intervention, witnessing the pitiful state of his fellow rulers left him too stunned to speak.
Who could have imagined Feng Jiu would return?
Who could have imagined Feng Jiu would ever come back?
Clearly, clearly, for tens of millions of years, none who ascended had ever returned. How had she managed it?
