Rusty Dragon

The protracted 'witch hunting' had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years' War,  and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise.
Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said—
"Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!"

They all call me Great Master

The over three-meters-tall, substantial skeleton head exploded.


Like a soap bubble flying under the sunlight.


Once it flew, it was destined to disappear.


And the member of the 'Death Poetry Society' who had completed the 'Ghoul Ritual' was wailing as he fell to the ground, his body that could withstand a direct hit from the Little Emperor Cannon rotting at a speed visible to the naked eye.


What was more important was that the Female Swordmaster even saw a plea in the eyes of this 'Death Poetry Society' member?


The 'Death Poetry Society,' a bunch of lunatics pursuing death, how could they possibly beg in the face of it?


The Female Swordmaster stood there beginning to doubt if she had seen wrongly.


Beside her, Marinda was also slightly unable to hold back.


The lady lifted her hand just in time to steady the pipe that almost fell from her mouth.


Chapter 372 Silent Whisper. Silent Burial!