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It was already night outside the Ninth Ruins. Draconic Seven leaned on his red-eyed lion with a cigar in his mouth, gazing down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill was a group of 50 men marching towards the Ninth Ruins.

He spat a thick cloud of smoke out before he bolted up. He had recovered from the lightning strike which had not hurt him a lot. He was just frustrated about why he lost his calm in front of Tang Ling.

Regardless, the other soldiers around him did not notice anything strange. Draconic Seven was smart enough like a venomous snake hiding in the dark, but his mood always fluctuated and his brutal temper and extreme methods would turn him into a madman at times, so they were always nervous and pressured around him.