With the Ghost King's sleeves waving like ripples, burning ghost orbs fell like stars, large and dense, crashing into the tumultuous waves of Blood Soul Lake. Isn't it bad to open it?
Xue Jiaolong roared, "Do you think you can create Napen King with just Ghost Fog and the will of ghosts?" The Snow Jiaolong's wings unfolded, lifting the wings that glittered with blood-red symbols. A violent blood storm enveloped it, crushing the ghosts and their inflamed spheres, dispersing halos, and washing the sky with waves.
The mightier the dragon, the more valuable it was to him and his language. His King held a shining lamp, a long-horned man dancing with the wind, a path engraved, an evil ghost face.
Ghost King, Death Knight!
