The Dragon Roar invoked a fear deep within the soul.
It made one's legs go weak and heart race, as if through pale eyes, people could see a vision of their own death. Yet, fear pinned them to the spot, their minds filled with a thousand succubi screaming at once, dizzying and disorienting.
Fang Hong felt a chill in front of his nose, the rusty smell of blood. Touching it, he realized it was a handful of fresh blood, slightly glaring. He looked up to see those spreading black wings, dark as a demon flame rising from hell, enveloping the sky.
"Dragon!"
Someone screamed hoarsely.
Panic spread like a plague, unstoppable. People no longer cared about order; the resistance to death and the instinct to survive overwhelmed everything. Rich or poor, noble or lowly lost their meaning here; fine clothes did not help one survive in such conditions and often resulted in being quickly swallowed by the crowd.
Some scoundrels even turned against women and children.
