The magnificent and grand Palace of the Polestar became a sacrificial offering, swiftly consumed entirely.
Amidst the desolate ruins, there was only the skeleton on the throne, who raised its head, coldly staring back at her.
At this moment, Cen Dongsheng arrived just in time.
"Brother! You finally made it!"
Yi Qingyan threw open her arms and dashed over, hugging the man's arm, her delicate eyebrows bending into crescent moons as she smiled. The feeling of tense confrontation with a formidable enemy and the final showdown she had earlier disappeared without a trace.
Cen Dongsheng was already used to it, his gaze falling on the skeleton at the center of the dilapidated hall.
"The feeling seems different from the ghost that possessed Zhao Chengxu just now... It doesn't seem like the same one?"
