She didn't seem to notice Baili An's arrival. Baili An quickly walked over; his gaze swept across the luxuriously carpeted floor, spotting traces of blood scattered along the way.
The surface of the chair and desk was a complete mess, with Ning Feiyan lying amidst this chaos, her hair ribbon unbeknownst to her had snapped.
From her slender arms along the edge of the desk, her ink-black hair cascaded down, a few strands dampened by sweat clinging to her porcelain-white nape, her shoulders subtly heaving weakly.
The daylight seeping in from the window poured a faint luminescence across the curves of her brow bone, nose, and chin, outlining a beautifully exquisite visage akin to a delicate and fragile painting.
Baili An approached from behind her, and as he looked down, he saw blood slowly seep through the layers of her white clothing, warmly staining it.
Baili An knew all too well that the battle Ning Feiyan had just fought was anything but easy.
