In the pervasive dust, Fang Hong slowly walked forward. He was heading toward the center of the square, a place already shattered and unrecognizable from the previous combat, where the wanderer had fallen, leaving only a deep pit, the dust within obscuring everyone's vision.
Fang Hong passed by Atira, the young man glanced fearfully at him, moving slightly aside—he indeed looked terrifying, his upper body's clothing completely shattered, exposing skin covered in layers of black scales, gleaming under the night sky.
A pair of hands had fully transformed into a reptilian shape, the five slightly spread fingers were five slender, sharp claws. The thick scales extended up his neck, covering half of his face, and above that, a pair of pale golden eyes with elongated pupils like swirling golden sparks.
"Ade..." Atira lifted his head laboriously from the ground, his emerald green eyes filled with deeply worried glances directed at him.
