A leopard lurks in the wild, never baring its fangs; when it strikes with all its strength, rocks shatter and heaven quakes.
As Lin Qi controlled the armies on both sides in their great battle and brought about the fall of two gods, less than two thousand meters away from him, within a small grove, Ximen Ya lay lazily curled amid a patch of tangled wild grass, delicately chewing a bitter grass root with the tips of his teeth.
The root of "dragon gall grass," ten thousand times more bitter than coptis—an ordinary person would have had their soul shattered by that dreadful taste and died on the spot. But to Ximen Ya, such a terrifying flavor barely allowed him to sense a faint trace of bitterness, barely letting him feel that he still possessed a little vitality and breath.
Dressed in a brightly colored, skin-tight camouflage suit, Ximen Ya looked like an entirely ordinary youth of eighteen or nineteen as he curled up in the grass. He had a soft, round face and a slender yet athletic body. Compared to ordinary people, his arms and legs were even leaner and longer. A gray longsword, five feet three inches long, no wider than an index finger and thinner than a cicada's wing, was securely strapped to his back. Under the sunlight, the sword looked as though it had been ground from stone, reflecting not the slightest glimmer.
Squinting as he glanced at Lin Qi, Empress Green Moon, and the others in the distance, Ximen Ya turned to look at the great ranks of elves and Black Spirit People charging past him. The corner of his mouth curled slightly, revealing a mocking, cruel sneer.
He lay quietly in the grass, yet the charging elves and Black Spirit People instinctively avoided this