The pitch-black scales shimmered with an imposing cold light, and each scale was engraved with mysterious ancient patterns, captivating at just a glance.
Neither quite a dragon nor a snake, its appearance didn't feel the least bit strange but instead carried an inherent unique aura.
Deeper than ancient, more majestic than sacred.
The word "powerful" was inadequate to describe this creature. Just glimpsing a small part of it made Lin Long completely abandon any thought of resistance.
The terrifying pressure from the bloodline continuously oppressed his Heart and Spirit, his soul. He even envied those prodigies who uttered only a scream before dying swiftly.
At least, they didn't have to endure this feeling.
This pure sense of oppression, as if a towering Mount Tai was pressing down on an ant, and the ant, which should be crushed immediately, survived under the influence of some power, feeling the collapse and despair of Mount Tai pressing down on him every second, every moment.
