Sure enough, shaping it himself was the most reliable!
The Frost Mirror Dragon's appearance was naturally Fu Qian's own creation.
With the Glorious Tyrant disabled, he couldn't transform with a single click. For a fleshcrafting expert, that was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
If there was no ready-made form, he could just shape one himself—especially with the added boost from the Pope's Frostburn effect.
In the end, it hadn't taken much effort. The form he'd long imagined in his spare time had made a stunning debut.
"Not bad."
Though apparently, it still wasn't quite shocking enough for Third Xun Brother.
"But you should know that this kind of superficial destruction won't affect Truth itself, right?"
Using the conversational tactic of praise before criticism, he let out an admiring remark before quickly pointing out the form's shortcomings. He didn't even try to dodge, despite floating in midair.
"Of course."
Though he had a tranquilizer between his teeth, Fu Qian had no trouble agreeing.
Third Xun was stating a fact. The place had been wrecked, but it was still quite stable.
The expansion of his body seemed to have triggered a height-change check, too. One of his claws had torn open a wound—not a particularly large one.
And that was undoubtedly the sight he and Sha Ming both wanted to see: a cage stained red with blood.
"That wasn't the point anyway. This form is just easier to control."
Without waiting for anyone else to share their thoughts, Fu Qian tossed out an explanation. Then his coiled body slowly unfurled.
Under countless gazes, he took a deep breath and let out a mighty roar.
Majestic, profound, sweeping across the entire scene.
But the truly deafening blast was aimed at just one person—Sha Ming.
Gospel Blast.
Transforming hadn't been the only