The bottle contained Qing Yu's homemade Enchanting Smoke, which made Feng Jiu's consciousness even more muddled, lost in that fabricated primary-colored world.
After that, it was the old reliable routine…
"Feng Jiu, Feng Jiu…" Qing Yu's voice fluctuated unpredictably, imbued with a strangely enchanting and mesmerizing tone.
"What is your wish?"
"To ascend to the imperial throne and make those who look down on me pay. Kill… I want to kill them…" Feng Jiu's obsession ran deep, even lost in the Great Joy, her intention to kill was heavy, wishing she could kill those who scorned her.
"But, it's difficult to ascend to the imperial throne," Qing Yu said.
"It is difficult, but… I already have the power…" Feng Jiu was still muttering unconsciously.
"Then, who gave you this power?"
"Meng De."
"So, you should be grateful to him, rely on him, he is your only supporter…"
"Grateful to him… Rely on him… But... but…" Feng Jiu's face showed struggle.
