The two fire snakes coiled around Ji Hao’s arms, weakly letting out their red fork-tongues. Occasionally, thin streams of fire would puff out from their bodies, evaporate the rainwater landing on them, turning it into steam. But the white steam could reach only three feet high at most, before it condensed into water again and fell back down under the effect of the bone-piercingly cold rainwater falling from the sky.
Same as those baby snakes, Mr. Crow was also weakly standing on Ji Hao’s shoulder, with his head buried under his left wing, looking like an ostrich.
The water was everywhere, in the sky, on the ground, surging in streams and roaring waves. To Mr. Crow, this place was now undoubtedly hell. Out of sight and out of mind, Mr. Crow simply hid his head. He didn’t have the heart to see this world, which was ruled by water now.
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