Yi Lin had always found it strange.
In some novels, when characters encounter certain scenes, they instantly describe their feelings as "waves of shock crashing in their hearts" or "utterly overwhelmed."
Could emotions really be that dramatic?
In truth… not really.
Yi Lin bent down, crouching over the scorched earth, and scraped up a handful of soil with his fingers.
The soil exuded a faint scent of blood.
Who knows how many corpses were buried beneath this earth?
Flicking the clump of scorched soil from his fingertips into the air, Yi Lin turned and locked gazes with Gilgamesh's golden eyes, speaking calmly: "So, you've already 'foreseen' the outcome of this war."
Gilgamesh scoffed: "Don't try to measure this king's Strength with the limits of your own feeble perspective."
Yi Lin ignored the sarcasm in King Gilgamesh's words.
He pondered briefly.
Then shook his head and said, "Impossible."
"Hmm?"
Gilgamesh twitched the corner of his eye.
