Wangchuan floated toward the entrance to the great hall.
"Let's go outside."
Drago froze for a moment.
"Huh? Why?"
"When Po Kong comes out, this place of yours will be destroyed."
Drago opened his mouth, glanced at the great hall he had painstakingly spent three months repairing, and ran Po Kong's size through his mind.
His expression shifted from confusion to realization, then to heartache.
"Right. Outside. Let's go outside."
He hurried after Wangchuan, glancing back at the painting on the dome as he walked, and muttered.
"If I'd known, I wouldn't have painted it."
On the square outside the Dragon Palace.
Wangchuan stood in the very center, holding the Pan Gu Box.
Drago stood ten paces away, his claws clasped together and his tail slapping back and forth against the ground.
His red eyes stared at the Pan Gu Box, equal parts anticipation and wariness.
Wangchuan raised the box before him, gripped its sides with both hands, and rapidly twisted it.
Click, click, click, click.
The patterned sections of the box rotated one by one. With each turn, its surface grew brighter, and green light seeped through the gaps.
After roughly seven or eight turns, Wangchuan stopped.
The box bounced upward, and six beams of green light shot from its six faces at once, landing in six directions around the square.
Where the green light landed, the air warped, and six gates to Hell of different sizes rose from beneath the ground at the same time.
The largest was thirty meters tall, and even the smallest was three meters.
"They're almost out."
Drago's tail went rigid.
He stared at the six gates, a rumble coming from his throat.
Six great demons were about to crowd into his world, the world he had all to himself.
Honestly, he was a