The thunder gradually subsided, and the three-legged death crow spread its wings, alighting gently upon the rocky mountain below, its three sharp talons deeply embedded into the stone.
It took a heavy breath, and let out a hoarse, bizarre croak!
Unfortunately, it was not born of the Phoenix Clan; its call only sent a chill down one's spine, without the submission of spiritual birds or the echoed cries of other spiritual birds!
Fortunately, it didn't care about these things, its abilities were originally meant to instill fear, not to subjugate other lives; it had no need for the aura of a king.
Moreover, inside the Ten Thousand Crows Pot, there were still hundreds of thousands of crows, large and small—all of them its subordinates; there was no lack of beings that submitted to it.
The three-legged death crow closed its eyes, sensing the earth-shattering changes taking place in its body after the tribulation.
