Zhang Yang abruptly turned around. With the Soul Force Field enveloping the area without pause, it was difficult for anything within its range to escape his notice.
And so, one man and one dragon faced each other, three eyes meeting.
The dragon's head was nearly as large as a train engine, but it looked far too weak. Even the one eye it had opened was as feeble as a candle flickering in the wind.
Zhang Yang did not sense the slightest hint of danger, nor did he feel that this was a case of a starving camel being bigger than a horse.
This dragon was like a heap of sludge, a corpse.
A few seconds later, a dragon tear rolled from the dragon's eye, its pleading plain for all to see.
Only then did Zhang Yang finally see the dragon's miserable state. Its dragon sinews had been ripped out, its dragon bones taken, and barely seventy or eighty percent of its scales remained.
This was a vegetative dragon.
Zhang Yang rubbed his chin and fell into thought. He was not agonizing over whether to save the dragon. To someone who had always lived by the standard that those outside his race could never share his mind, killing a dragon was no different from killing a loach.
But he still had to consider the benefits.
After a moment, Zhang Yang cut away the ice surrounding the dragon's body. Then he saw streams of ghostly blue chill spill out, constantly forming thick ice around the dragon.
Now that was an interesting phenomenon.
"Can you talk?"
Zhang Yang asked, but the dragon had already closed its eye again and fallen unconscious. Fortunately, that did not matter. Without a doubt, the chill within the dragon's body had formed this iceberg, and this iceberg was