When the Grassland Khan woke up, he was already tightly bound.
Despite possessing great power, even able to transform into a Golden-winged Bird, he couldn't break free of the ropes—because the true restraint wasn't the ropes but the large hand pressing on his shoulder.
The owner of that hand looked ordinary; he truly didn't know him.
If the person could really match him in strength, how could he not know who it was?
"Who are you really?"
The Grassland Khan strained his neck, trying to see the man's face clearly.
But as he looked up, all he saw was an endless sea of fire.
What should have been the camp of the Grassland soldiers was now ablaze, the overwhelming stench of corpses rising from the raging flames, as countless Grassland soldiers were consumed by the inferno.
These were soldiers he had personally led, representing the efforts of his lifetime.
But now, these soldiers were...
"Oh, you're awake?"
The plain-looking face turned toward him.
