1187 Sky King is Born

Han Sen was made up, and he thought to himself, "Hmm, perhaps this is not all bad. Give me a few more, and I'll have myself a personal army."

In the sky, the hellbird raged with great curtains of fire that smoked the skies and turned them black. Try as it might, it was unable to incinerate the vines that sought to ravage its fiery body.

The green vines had put a strain on it and quelled the ferocity of its flames. The wretched, lecherous vines did not fear anything.

The vines lashed the bird whose flesh they were born from, and they swayed like manic green fire-licks of their own. Eventually, they proved too much, and they tore the bird apart.

The bird had hoped to reach Han Sen and his bottle, and it had been rapidly descending as all this unfolded. Unfortunately, it was too late. The only thing to reach the ground was a rain of fleshy chunks and blood-stained feathers. It was another meal for the Sky Tree.