At the other end of the Dragon Graveyard, Qian Renxue's journey had been completely different from Qin Heng's, yet they had ultimately arrived at the same destination.
She had not buried the dragon bones as Qin Heng had. It was not because she did not want to, but because she could not.
She did not possess the power of the Ice and Fire Dragon Kings, nor did she have dragon claws capable of slicing through stone and melting the earth.
She had only her own hands, and for human hands to dig a pit in Dragon Valley's rocky ground large enough to contain a giant dragon was nothing more than a fool's dream.
But she did what she could. Before every set of dragon bones, Qian Renxue stopped, placed her right hand over her chest, and paid her respects to the dead with the Angel God Clan's most ancient ritual.
Her movements were meticulous as she silently recited the soul-soothing prayer recorded in Spirit Hall's archives. It was part of the Angel God's inheritance, a prayer specifically meant to comfort heroic souls slain in battle.
She did not know whether the departed souls of these dragons could understand human prayers, but she believed that respect transcended race.
Whenever she encountered dragon bones half-buried in windblown sand, she crouched down and carefully brushed the dust from their surfaces with the hem of her robe.
Whenever she found scattered bone fragments, she picked them up with both hands and returned them to their original places, doing her best to restore the skeletons' integrity.
There was no impatience on her face as she did these things, nor any selfish calculation.
She was not completing a mission or expecting a reward. She simply felt that these dragons had once been the proudest creatures on