"Prophecy? What prophecy? Oxerella has been dead for I don't know how many years. Since she can predict that the Far North Continent will usher in an apocalyptic disaster, did she predict how she will die?"
The man in the ice is soundly asleep, with an angelic face and elegant demeanor in his silver robe.
"Oxerella? Did she die in this hell-blood ice?"
"Do you think she's dead?"
"What do you mean-" Zhen Huo's delicate little face turned pale.
"No one knows yet what kind of crime she committed to be so cruelly imprisoned in the most terrifying cage in the world. Yes, this is not a coffin of ice and snow. After that prophecy, Osherella did not commit suicide, but was imprisoned."
She put her hands on his slender but strong chest, her eyes less sinister, and straddled his lap seductively.
"Go? Where to go."
He gently bit her vermilion lips. He lost the evil charm of the past, and there was a trace of sadness in his deep black eyes that only Yinya could detect.
"Where to go? Anywhere is good, to a place without conspiracy, killing and cold."
Hatred, killing, conspiracy, coldness, and darkness have paved the way for the skeletal ladder leading to the Silver Throne. What should they do in this world?