The wind returning to the ruins always carries a fishy smell.
It's not blood, but the smell of something deeper and more ancient, mixed with the whine of the astral wind blowing through the cracks in the abyss, like the gasp of a dying beast. Fang Zhiyu stood in the center of the formation. The cracks on the red-gold battle armor spread like spider webs. Dark golden divine blood seeped into each crack, dripping on the charred earth, making a "sizzling" burning sound.
She wiped the corners of her lips and wiped a sticky patch on the back of her hand. You don't need to look to know that blood is golden - the mark of the incarnation of heaven, and it is also the most eye-catching target at this moment.
