The massive body of the beast, as majestic as a bear, fell forward.
Both hands pressed on the ground.
Wrists snapped with a crisp sound.
As if in worship, as if leading a sheep, but the rope leading this slaughtered sheep was not one of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trust, but the sword edge tempered from the gold and fire of the Central Plains.
The Thirteenth Khan said: "You, you...!!!"
"Who are you?!"
He saw the person standing proudly, surrounded by the illusory power of the Ancient Red Dragon, a terrifying presence, eyes coldly overlooking him, as high as the heavens.
A towering aura, as if emerged naturally from a hundred battles on the battlefield, pressed down overwhelmingly, making the Thirteenth Khan's scalp tingle, his body stiff, lips trembled, yet unable to utter a single word.
Why? Why?!
This invading enemy, wasn't he supposed to fight the Great Khan?
