Juba Mustard Fell from the Sky

Feng Liushu sat on the cold dragon chair. The fingers on the dragon chair gradually tightened, the joints were faintly white, and the veins on the back of his hands popped out. Looking up at the empty Jinluan Palace, a bone-crushing cold invaded my entire lungs. It was so quiet that it was incredible, so quiet that it was terrifying. There was no life in the huge Jinluan Palace. The only sound was the breathing of Feng Liushu, like the last cry of a dying phoenix. "Report——" A hurried and panicked shout broke the eerie silence. A servant knelt down in the middle of the Jinluan Hall, lowering his head...