The vast sea of clouds surged like tumultuous waves; the towering woman who had always held an air of superiority was consumed by uncontrollable rage.
Chen Yi faced her calmly.
Qin Qingluo was no ordinary person—at the brink of life and death, she comprehended her own "intent." Not only was this unsurprising, but it had been part of Chen Yi's calculations all along.
If she hadn't discovered her intent, now that would have been unexpected.
And if she truly hadn't grasped her intent,
then Chen Yi wouldn't even have a thirty percent chance of winning.
The Prince of Annan, possessed of the immortal glow of glass that granted eternal life—even slow-moving persistence like water wearing down stone could eventually erode Chen Yi to death.
Among the clouds, the towering royal woman had already risen; her golden snake-like pupils seemed to overlook all creation. Her imposing figure, radiating the luminescence of eternal glass, exuded an air of divine majesty.
