The little packrat was wearing a pink dress and a pair of exquisite deerskin boots. There was a big golden lock on her chest that was not tacky at all. She held her small crossbow in her chubby little hand and flickered her big black eyes. She exuded a milky fragrance.
When she ran out with her short legs, she even waved at her father and mother. "Sweetcake wants to play swish, swish, swish…"
Opposite the little packrat, the Fifteenth Prince stood tall and straight. He was more than a head taller than the little packrat.
The crossbow in his hand was obviously not an ordinary crossbow. It was probably the work of a blacksmith master.
Its power was many times stronger than the wooden crossbow in the little glutinous rice ball's hand.
When the two sides stood together, they were on completely different levels.
