The heavy clouds hung low above the ancient forest, the cold wind danced through the night sky like a sharp sword, deep autumn chill weighed heavily, at midnight the moon was obscured, the northwestern gale cried sharply against the forest leaves.
Hong Zhuang's gray robe was stirred by the cold wind, the eerie moonlight reflected in her dark eyes: "Why are you here?"
As she spoke, her expression was indifferent, yet the faint flicker in the depths of her eyes betrayed her truly excited inner emotion at the moment.
Ning Feiyan calmly and leisurely extended two slender fingers, gently pressed between Blade, pushing aside Hong Zhuang's giant bone-chopping sword.
The corner of her eyes slightly lifted, she glanced at the tribe behind Hong Zhuang where the bonfire was bright, indeed quite a few Enchanting Demons and Demon Clan lingered there, looking at the scene, it seemed peaceful and stable.
