In the afternoon, at twilight,
the cold wind swept snowflakes across the village ablaze with flames.
Xi Mu stood amid the firelight, swinging the Great Sword of Death with ease, slicing a follower of the Dusk Cult attempting an attack, splattering blood and corpses flew into the burning hut, completely disappearing from sight.
"Killing them is meaningless," a calm male voice suddenly rang out. Xi Mu instinctively turned his head, looking towards the source of the voice, only to see the Red Dragon King approaching nonchalantly, unfazed by the flames, hands in his pockets.
"They're just a bunch of lackeys," yawned the Red Dragon King, "As long as the snow calamity continues, the Dusk Cult can have as many lackeys as they want."
