Earlier, Long Tianming had been smiling and content. But suddenly, an expression that was a deep as water and towering as a mountain burst forth across his face, accompanied by a frighteningly overbearing aura. The audience at the foot of the stage couldn’t help gasping for breath.
Long Tianming was like a treasured sword that had been unsheathed. It seemed as if he was trying to force the audience to submit to him through aura alone. The brush in his hand descended and coiled like snakes and dragons, leaving inky black patterns across the page. Slowly, but surely, a ferocious beast took form on the paper; it was a Celestial Blood Saint Dragon, landing with wings unfurled.