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

Over the manor, snowflakes fluttered down gently.


On the ground below, the old man waved his hand.


At once, the blizzard reversed its course.


Not to mention the scattering snowflakes.


The temperature also started to climb rapidly.


The next moment, the drifting snowflakes turned into raindrops and fell.


Baron Harold lifted his head to feel the cold sensation of the raindrops falling on his face, while Titon beside him was dumbfounded.


Was this the dud lordship who was nearing his wooden stage?


Of course, the butler had heard about the 'Blood Descendants.'


Chapter 521: Taking the Stage