Chapter 947 One Dead, One Wounded

• In that heartbeat, every human cultivator watching forgot how to breathe. When had it come to this? When had their entire race grown so diminished that a lone woman now carried what remained of their honor?
• Ozias' knuckles squealed under the strain of his clenched fists, the sound sharp as snapping twigs. He loathed himself—loathed the weakness that chained his hands.
• If Aneira truly awakened the Will of the Queen, she might never return as herself.