In the very center of the giant island, there was a small, raised square. The square was eerily empty, as if deliberately crafted as a gathering spot, artificially split into two halves.
At this moment, two distinctly divided camps glared at each other with fury, the air above the small square thick with the smell of gunpowder.
Chen Xiran, was the beautifully dressed woman from the tavern who had previously spoken in support of Li Qingming.
Her dignified beauty and slender, graceful figure stood tall. Her tiny waist, delicate as a water snake, her skin crystal-clear and as fair as snow. Her eyes, shining like autumn waters, were bright and captivating. Her dense lashes appeared like black brushes above them, and beneath the straight bridge of her nose were thin, tender lips soft as rose petals. Her face, fair as jade, seemed as though it could drip water.
