In Ye Hua's eyes, the Clockwork Fairies were scattering and fluttering about.
The Combat Artisan—he never expected that this young man beside him possessed such skills.
Under the cold night, countless Flexible Constructs were soaring into the sky with the sound of flapping wings, resembling a golden bud slowly blooming. It was like a dazzling firework, more breathtaking than any firework people had seen that night.
As he looked up at the scene, a sense of unreality filled his heart, as if it symbolized the gradual end of an era. It made people vaguely feel that some underlying rules after the Stargate Era were undergoing changes.
Because that was exactly what people faintly saw after Mount Holy Pact.
Ye Hua was retracting his gaze while the mechanical clouds scattered above his head, each golden arc pointing straight into the distance—
