"What is this thing?"
Li Qingming's pupils sharply constricted as he tried to force his way down, only to find that the speck of starlight could not be pierced by the Bitter Bamboo Spear.
He looked up and was shocked to discover that not far away there was a terrifying and overwhelming presence taking shape.
It was a silver-white metallic mecha towering at ten zhang, exuding an immense Saintly Pressure.
It held a silver greatsword in its hand, the tip of the blade flickering with cold light, cleaving a cold starry path that extended all the way to the base of Li Qingming's Bitter Bamboo Spear.
"You two, come over here now! Do you actually want to die at the hands of these barbaric natives?" Suddenly, a strange voice with a digital tone emanated from inside the mecha.
Although the voice was complex and indiscernible, Li Qingming still recognized it – it was Prince Sangla's voice.
