The night was cool and thin, the majestic spring rain began to gradually weaken.
Drops of rain gently splattered on every corner of the human world, soaking the land that had endured a cold winter.
Yellow Sword Wine, clutching his wine gourd, lightly touched the ground with his toes, his entire frame taut like a longbow, ready to shoot off at any moment.
Crisis, an extremely intense sense of crisis, permeated his entire body, causing every hair to stand on end, and the alcohol within him almost instantly evaporated.
His eyes were unprecedentedly clear, as if a bead of sweat emerged from his forehead, slid down his cheek, and finally mixed into the rainwater.
With a plop, it fell to the ground, exploding into pieces!
The spring wind carried with the spring rain, caressing gently.
It brought refreshing moisture to the skin,
But Yellow Sword Wine felt no refreshment, only bone-chilling coldness and... the terrifying press of a divine hierarchy!
