"Hey little trap, you think you're tough?"
When the black-clothed boy sneered with contempt, Moxin's mind first went blank with shock.
She raised her gaze to look toward the back of the crowd at the black-clothed boy who had just kicked down the city gate while dragging a strange long sword.
"..."
Moxin frowned slightly, perhaps confused by the definition of the term "little trap."
Indeed, this wasn't a common term in the Western Region.
But just from the other's somewhat provocative and mocking cold gaze, Moxin could vaguely understand the special meaning behind those words.
Somehow, a series of memories that Moxin had sealed away for a hundred years flashed through her mind like a lantern show.
She saw him riding on a galloping steed, departing for the frontlines amid the cheers of his fellow villagers...
She saw him wielding a long Azure Dragon halberd, leading thousands of troops in battle against the evil sect's witch...
