War is cruel.
After a great battle, there is often no real winner. Whether losing or winning, one will be immersed in the emptiness and pain of licking their wounds for a very, very long time.
Shen Qingming now deeply understood the calls of those pacifists.
War is truly destined for mutual destruction.
Looking at Zhang Zhixi in front of her, whose face was ashen, Shen Qingming could feel no sense of victory at all, because the gazes gathered around were already like knives, spears, swords, halberds, axes, clubs, hooks, and forks, piercing through her sense of shame, making her wish she could explode on the spot.
Cat ears, cat paws, cat tail belt, and sweet, charming meows.
At the last moment, she still used that Spirit Cat Swordsmanship that she had originally planned to seal away forever.
