The war was over. After calming his thoughts, Lear looked at the approaching Goddess of Misfortune.
At this moment, he could sense a chilling intent to kill from her deep eyes.
"Lord Lear, the Tyrant Monarch has completely sided with the Master of Dark Crows. That old crow, sealed for tens of millions of years, harbors hatred capable of swallowing the sun."
"He won't just let it go at that. We need to take the initiative..."
The tone carried a suppressed fury.
The Master of Dark Crows was powerful, but a mere Tyrant Monarch dared to be presumptuous in her presence?
Does he really think her blade isn't sharp anymore?
At what level does he think himself worthy to be her enemy?
Lear's gaze slightly hardened.
"Your Highness, that Master of Dark Crows has stirred up the Dark Crow Disaster on the Main Plane, gathering subordinates and making enemies all over... What exactly is he trying to do?"
The Goddess of Misfortune sneered.
