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Chapter 1496: 669 Mother and Daughter Reunion_3 Chapter 1496: 669 Mother and Daughter Reunion_3 “How about we make a bet?

If she is indeed the Saintess, she must have the power to dissipate disaster.

If she can’t stop the heavenly thunder after a count of three, she clearly doesn’t possess the power of a Saintess.

She would then be nothing more than a deceiver.

Otherwise, I will admit that she is a Saintess.”

Prince Brooklyn raised an eyebrow, his gentle voice uttered the cruelest words, “Who do you think you are, huh?”

The hint of an upturn at the end of his words was incredibly seductive, yet hinted at an intimidating authority.

Alora Hart’s legs trembled, but she pushed through the fear.

She turned to the people below the stage, “Wouldn’t you want to know?

...

Is the Saintess a divine gift, or a fraudster deceiving the world?”

The people were hesitant.

Surely enough, Alora Hart walked towards the palanquin.

As the curtain whisked up and down, her slender silhouette was discernible yet blurred.

“I want to see the person who hides themselves underneath layers of pretense, and see how unbearable the truth is.”

Just as Divine Art was about to step in, a gesture from Vermilion Bird stopped him.

Alora Hart dashed forward, abruptly lifting the curtain.

A girl in white clothes sat inside, her face obscured by a white veil.

Her eyes were slightly closed, giving off an eerie sense of tranquility.

Just then, a bolt of silver lightning streaked across the sky and lit up the girl’s eyes.

At that mont, the girl slowly opened her eyes.

Alora Hart’s mind was flooded with disbelief.

The sa bolt of lightning illuminated her face, so contorted by shock that it was almost grotesque.

She instinctively reached out to snatch the veil from the girl’s face but her wrist was effortlessly caught by the girl.

The cold of the girl’s touch made Alora shudder, causing her every hair to stand on end.

“Who…

who are you?” her voice hoarse and filled with fearful conviction.

“Alora Hart, it’s been a while.”

The ethereal and sowhat surreal voice left the four companions, Green Dragon and Vermilion Bird, completely taken aback.

They didn’t expect her to regain consciousness.

The shock caused a violent contraction of Alora’s pupils.

She roared in disbelief, “Why are you here?”

Her limited mind couldn’t make sense of the sight in front of her.

The person she hated most in her life was once again standing against her, about to step into a role too lofty for her to reach.

At that mont, Alora Hart’s eyes erupted with a fervent hatred, gritting her teeth as she growled, “Why can’t you stay dead?”

With a flicker of the girl’s hand, Alora was flung onto the ground, looking utterly dejected.

The saintly figure towering above her deeply incensed Alora Hart; the intense sense of humiliation was just like waves drowning her.

The people saw how the girl in white clothes effortlessly flung Alora away amidst the swaying curtain.

This sight was nothing short of surreal to all present.

The young lady slowly erged from the palanquin.

In an instant, the thunder was muted, the ominous clouds dissipated, the winds hushed and the fog lifted – leaving the world illuminated.

Behind the young lady, the sky was awash in rich hues of red and orange, almost painting the entire sky red.

The young woman standing atop the platform was clad in unsoiled white, her countenance obscured by the veil.

Despite her elevated position, her mysterious black eyes served as the focal point – akin to the purest obsidian, unrivaled by any shimr or gleam.

The red rays of dawn tinged her skirt, revealing the most beautiful color to human eyes.

The people dumbstruck, their eyes glued to the girl upon the high platform.

A spectrum of emotions, endowing her with their unwavering reverence.

If the Holy Master was the stern, formidable ruler who commands their obedience.

Then, the young lady on the high platform was the pure, holy being that earns their faith.

No words were needed – her very presence served as the destination of their faith.

Liam Anderson looked at the girl in white clothes who stood tantalizingly at arm’s length, his eyes filled with warmth.

White Tiger was in a daze.

He had never expected such an extraordinary woman existed in this world.

She was sourced by the Holy Master with no need for words – her re presence was enough to validate her as the Saintess.

Being a quick judge of character, White Tiger was very well aware of the Holy Master’s cunning.

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The girl in a certain respect was making sense, but at that mont he was no different from the common folk below.

He really believed there was a real Saintess in this world.

“Aubree Grove…

You’ve deceived the people, you will pay for this,” scread Alora Hart in despair.

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