At the final moment, beneath the gaze of countless eyes, Zhao Xiaoxiang arrived, walking on light.
This Zhao Xiaoxiang looked seventeen or eighteen, exactly as she had in Zhao Cheng's memories. Of course, not how she had truly looked in those memories, but how he had imagined she would look at that age if she had never fallen ill.
"Zhao Cheng, you look awful."
"But it's all right."
Bathed in light, Zhao Xiaoxiang reached out and patted Zhao Cheng on the head, her smile serene and lovely.
"Wah! A Miracle has appeared again! No, this isn't a Miracle—it is the wish in his heart, so intense it reached the very limit, answered by the ritual itself! Though every powerful being rejected him, what is never forgotten will surely find an echo. So this summoning ritual actually has such an effect."
"But with the body of a mere mortal, even if forcibly molded by the ritual, how much power could she possibly possess?!"
The host's voice rang out, followed by another stretch of silence.
In the room, Zhao Cheng discovered that although Zhao Xiaoxiang's various attributes had all reached several times that of an ordinary person, they were nothing more than bare-bones stats. Beyond that, she had no skills at all.
As for her memories, they remained at the instant she died of illness. According to her, she had thought she would sleep forever. A moment before, she had vaguely seen herself crying; then, in the next moment, after closing and opening her eyes, she had appeared here.
At the same time, basic information about this era, as well as matters related to the Dream Competition, had naturally surfaced in her mind.
Zhao Xiaoxiang was rather optimistic about what lay ahead. In her words, being able to see Zhao