Today, I was saved by such a powerful existence, and amazingly, the method used was actually my own flute.
The soldier with the broken leg tightly grasped his windpipe.
From now on, this flute would no longer represent just his longing for his hometown; he decided to pass it down as an heirloom, so future generations would remember what happened today.
Zhang Xiaoman returned to McCarthy and Regina, who were both looking at him with a very peculiar gaze.
"I didn't expect you, Ji Xing... to actually use Light Element magic... but this magic is very peculiar, I've never seen it before. Is it a type of magic from your hometown...?"
McCarthy inquired.
Zhang Xiaoman thought for a moment, not quite sure how to explain this, so he simply nodded, brushing it off.
The two, seeing his reluctance to elaborate, wisely chose not to press further.
