On the graveyard, the lady in a purple dress danced wildly.
Her whole body exuded a strong rhythm, swaying with her flowing hair, very rhythmical.
Watching the light emitted from the glazed lamp, Duan Yun felt a sense of trance.
It was like seeing a well-bred lady in broad daylight, beautiful and dignified, then at night, you pass by a bar for a drink and find her there, heavily made-up in a spaghetti strap dress, lost in dancing.
Of course, even though she danced somewhat forgetfully, the lady in the purple dress was still beautiful. Or rather, perhaps only a woman like her could make dancing on a graveyard so rhythmic.
The lady wasn't wearing shoes, under her slender jade legs, the graveyard was flattened, emitting dust and smoke.
Not to mention Duan Yun, even the worldly Shen Ying was somewhat stunned.
Could this be a peculiar hobby of the Purple-Dress Dragon King?
Suddenly, the playing of the barbarian girls stopped.
