The chilling murderous aura swept through the corridor, like a breeze blowing through a cave.
Skylark knew she couldn't stay here for long. She currently occupied only the body of a Divine Servant, unable to bear her full power, and could easily fall apart against a formidable enemy. Her gaze suddenly turned sharp as she silently looked at the pitch-black throne, extending her delicate, porcelain-white right hand.
The value of this pitch-black throne was self-evident.
No, what was truly precious was the Alchemy Matrix here.
As long as one mastered the Alchemy Matrix here, it would be akin to grasping the possibility of creating a third life.
