"As a wild Transcendent, not seeking an organization for support is truly dangerous."
Suddenly, she noticed a mouse by her feet in the carriage, looking up at her.
Thud!
Her boot crushed the mouse to death on the carriage floor, splattering blood.
The short-haired woman, still in shock, ignored the moving carriage and rushed out, lifting the curtain.
Glancing at the coachman, who was driving with his back to her, she casually snatched the purse from his waist.
After rolling on the ground to break her fall, she inspected the item in her hand, only to be shocked to find it was a short dagger.
The feel was definitely that of a purse, so why did it turn into a short dagger...?
It was conceivable that the coachman carried a short dagger for self-defense, but why...
This dagger looked so familiar, very similar to her own, right?
Looking up, she saw that she was back in the dilapidated factory.
The bonfire was still burning, and the black-haired youth was still before her.
