["Miss Pat, can I ask something? What's the difference between a mortal who can light a match and a cultivator with a flame spiritual root?"]
["Well little one, once you see it you'll know. The flames of those damn immortals rise up like a mountain of hell."]
Dimitri didn't know why those words Miss Pat had once said to him rang in his head at that exact moment.
Perhaps it was the flames.
Long, wide, and utterly uncaring about their surroundings.
Flames that didn't discriminate between mortals. Flames that ate everything whole.
These were names people called the flames of immortals.
Yet at that moment, Dimitri could only see a living, untamed demon currently devouring his family, his home, his people, and his memories.
Dimitri clenched his jaw so tight blood began pouring from his gums.
He wanted to run in.
He wanted to check if perhaps someone was still there, waiting for him to help them.
