In but a fleeting moment, the flood dragon had elegantly descended onto the tiles of the courtyard, a couple tens of feet away from Zheque Honghai. With the scattering of weightless, gentle flames, it gave the impression of two immortals phasing through a cycle of rebirth from the ashes.
Noire's flames seemed to carry sentience, though they flourished along the ground, they haven't left a shard of foul afterburn. Instead, a wave of warmth rippled out, only for Noire's tall, stalwart, and prideful figure to prevail from the columns of flames.
Behind him, the ever-graceful Anastasia maintained a peaceful pace. Though, for a woman who retained a wanton and arrogant demeanor till recently, her humble poise seemed a bit forced and stiff. Nonetheless, it hadn't stained her beauty the least.
