Chaotic Sword God
Apocalypse Gacha
Necromancer: I Am A Disaster
Martial Cultivator
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Nightmare Assault
I, The Dragon Overlord
Loser System and Berserker Me
Horror Game Designer
There's Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made!
Swear Fealty To Me, My Subjects!
The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 326: Selection
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 248: Organisation
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1177- Situation change
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1176- Eighth
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 19
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 622: Natural Disasters and Man-made Calamities
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 325: City One Can't Leave
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 247: The Past is Like the Wind
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1175- Don't discriminate
Aspiring to the Immortal Path
Chapter 946: Fatal Strike
Apocalypse Gacha
Chapter 1174- Divide
Snow-Kissed Rose (GL)
Chapter 18
The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin
Chapter 78: This Fight Will Never End
The Demon King is Too Unfathomable!
Chapter 33: a.0.3 Update! Skills System
Martial Cultivator
Chapter 621: Meeting an Old Friend
Chaotic Sword God
Chapter 3829: An Answer
Nightmare Assault
Chapter 246: What are you Waiting For?
Horror Game Designer
Chapter 324: Flying Seeds
In the Asura realm, the mountains stood like the ocean as the setting sun was like blood.
The sky that was already red became dyed even further, like it was bleeding. The clouds in the glow of the setting sun seemed to be burning. It was a grand and magnificent sight.
It was as if daytime never existed, only sunrise and sunset.
Falling in battle when the sun set and coming back to life when the sun rose. Only the blood-red colour never changed.
That was a solemn melancholy, a valiant intensity, that those who lived under the blue sky and white clouds could never understand.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The ground rumbled; the mountains shook. A giant advanced with heavy steps, actually carrying a balance that resembled a small mountain on its back.
White towers and golden domes rose up from the palace. The scattered courtyards and corridors were dyed red by the light of the setting sun, like it was a glorious palace of a god.
It was more worthy of the name “god’s palace” than most palaces in the world too. Compared to those structures built from rock and clay, a living Asura Battle God occupied this place.
In the depths of a courtyard, a middle-aged man sat back leisurely in a seat, admiring the performance.
There was only one dancer, dressed in a sari with a veil on her face. A single, pointy, white horn extended from her smooth forehead.
Her movements were graceful, like a bird flying through the air, a peacock demonstrating its plumes. Her singing was soft and enchanting, silken and intangible, enough to leave people charmed. She turned the entire courtyard into a paradise within the woods.
The war cries from the distant battlefield were diluted by the singing as well, serving as an insignificant contrast in the background.
The man’s eyes were half-closed, also enchanted by her performance.
A robust figure suddenly leapt out of the space there, except he was an Asura Sovereign. He immediately dropped down on one knee and clasped his hands. “Esteemed god, the kid still refuses to surrender!”
The aura of sl
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