The Wrath of the Cannon King
Vartak stared at him for a long time.
His smile slowly disappeared.
The warmth vanished.
Only coldness remained.
A coldness capable of freezing the soul.
The chaotic void seemed to grow quieter with every passing second. The laughter that had echoed moments ago gradually faded, yet many people's shoulders were still trembling. Some lowered their heads. Others turned away entirely.
They were afraid that if they looked at Leon again, they would burst out laughing.
Then, a sinister smile appeared once more.
This time, there was no attempt to hide the murderous intent behind it.
His eyes locked onto Leon like a venomous serpent staring at its prey.
Leon, however, appeared completely relaxed.
His midnight robes embroidered with thin amethyst patterns fluttered gently in the chaotic winds. His long black hair swayed behind him, and his purple eyes remained calm and indifferent.
He looked at Vartak for a moment before suddenly speaking.
