Wheeling Gull Isle shāzhōu de kāifàng

Whatever. She turned and prepared to walk away, but was stopped by his question. Ying looked at the catch which had been placed where she once stood and huffed another frustrated sigh. You are wrong, she told him. Someone did have to win, and that was unfortunately Asmodeus.

A contemplative look was turned toward the island. What would they think if she strayed for a moment? You win, so you can pick it. Her gaze was still hard, cold, but her voice had softened to something both confident and unsure. So, what? There was much anticipation in the moments leading up to his answer, whatever that might be.