Wynter raised the iron rod. “Are you, a Foplya wooden doll, iming to be God? Sorry, it seems that


    our textbooks on mythology don’t match. And I don’t y with dolls, nor do I wish to be your


    ve.


    “I just have one question. Will you expel the spirits you’ve swallowed, or do I have to beat them out of


    you?


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    As Wynter said that, she had already bitten her finger. She smeared the blood along the iron rod,


    infusing it with her power.


    Gabby’s eyes narrowed as she noticed Wynter’s defiance. An intense resentment red in her gaze. It


    was pure malice.


    “You Cascadians really like to do things the hard way. Since you won’t submit, stay and keep me


    company. Your body is much more suitable for me. The blood of a cultivator smells better.”


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