A Dragon Carp is about to enter the abyss.
Seventy-two Evil Flood Dragons can barely conceal their restlessness, rushing together.
"You're crazy!"
The blurry figure of the Purple-clothed Sword Spirit prepares to draw its sword to stop it.
Zhao Rong does not respond.
In the next second, all of Gui's actions come to a halt.
Because under someone's control, that Dragon Carp suddenly trembles and stops between the surface and the deep abyss of the Heart Lake.
It is very close to a certain blurry line of caution, only a hair's breadth away.
Gui is slightly taken aback, "This is…"
Zhao Rong says nothing.
At this moment, he sits rigidly at the table, a candle flame flickering back and forth, yet he remains unmoving.
The dim light reflects the tightly pressed lips of the man at the table and his damp black hair at the temples.
Zhao Rong is intensely focused.
He must concentrate fully to suppress the Dragon Carp's urge to dive into the abyss.
