At the center of Blood Soul Valley, Lin Zhenyue in his dragon transformation form, the giant dragon that had been soaring the sky and intimidating all directions just now, was now powerlessly collapsed on the ground. The golden scales were filled with cracks, and fresh blood was gushing out, staining the cold ground red.
His eyes had lost their former brilliance, but the indomitable spirit and resilience still flickered deep in his pupils.
The host of Blood Soul Hall, Ye Wuheng, wearing a dark red long robe, stood in mid-air, with a hint of a cruel smile at the corner of his mouth.
He slowly descended, each step seemed to tread on Lin Zhenyue's heart, bringing an overwhelming sense of pressure.
"Lin Zhenyue, what good is dragon transformation? In front of me, Ye Wuheng, you are defeated after all." His voice was deep and powerful, full of the arrogance of a victor.
