Meng Bai furrowed his brow, glancing around the blood-stained courtyard. The battle was over, yet its traces remained—dark patches of blood clinging stubbornly to the soil and walls, a lingering scent of iron thick in the air. He sighed.
"How will you help?" he asked Little Shrubby, skeptical. "We don't have enough water for all this."
Little Shrubby didn't reply with words, but with action. Without hesitation, he exhaled, releasing a stream of fire into the air. Meng Bai flinched instinctively, expecting the heat to wash over him. But the flames didn't burn. They didn't even feel hot.
His eyes widened. "How is this possible?"
