Yet even in this battered state, even as it trembled on the verge of death, the dragon did not retreat deeper into the pool to escape. Instead, it stubbornly positioned itself in front of the Pure Yang Flower, its body coiled defensively, guarding it with all the strength it had left.
Kyle stood at the edge of the blood-soaked pool, his expression calm yet filled with an innate arrogance that seemed to radiate from his very being. Looking down at the battered three-headed black dragon, his eyes carried the superiority of one who believed himself unmatched.
His voice, clear and crisp like finely polished jade, carried easily across the battlefield as he spoke, "Beast, I pity the time and effort it has taken for you to cultivate to such a level. If you are willing to offer your soul blood and become my spiritual pet, I will spare your life."
