Thirty years. A measly thirty. Back when her Minor God Avatar confronted the Infernal Cult, even if it only contained thirty percent of her overall strength, it wasn't what Gulistan could contend with. Were it not for Berken, the Serkas would have been wiped out!
But three decades afterward, Gulistan stood without an ounce of cultivation, but battle-power clearly standing at True God altitude. What did she eat?
"Wait, True God strength but no cultivation?"
Nessriane wondered, and her dark-green eyes studied Gulistan with scrutiny, not leaving out any detail. Snow white skin replaced the previous olive shade, and icy-blue pupils stood in lieu of the black hues. Hair color may be different, but the looks betrayed not. Worse, the more she stared, the more Nessriane could find the similarities between Gulistan's flawless face and that abominable devil whose figure turned her dreams into nightmares.
