Hit, shatter, but not explode, the Frost Sword Intent of the cold series silently freezes everything.
Without damaging the window a bit, without damaging the tiles a bit.
Come without a sound, fall without a sound.
The long night is long indeed, this sword comes, and so does the person.
He is under the eave of the inn across.
A simple pale coat, a long and quaint sword at his waist, pale fingers holding the sword, calm and cool brows and eyes.
He looks ahead.
Those pupils seem shallow, yet also deep, unflinching as they lock onto the swordsman standing under the eave of the inn where Qingqiu Wuque is.
He doesn't speak.
But cold sweat subtly gathers on the swordsman's forehead.
He doesn't know who this person is, but he senses the other's terrifying presence.
"Zi Ye, you just!!"
