Su Jing's fingertips flickered with a blazing red lotus, the faint and mysterious firelight accentuating her distinctively pale brows.
The alluring red lotus twined around her fingertips, like a wisp of smoke dispersed by the wind.
Threads unraveled into a gently winding red thread, light as smoke, entwining Baili An's fingers.
The sound of a flute arose softly, and Baili An could only look at Su Jing with bewildered eyes, unsure of its meaning.
Su Jing stood with a sword, her gaze cool, yet she spoke no further words.
The time to enter the valley had come, leaving no room for the two to exchange further pleasantries.
The sound of the Yin Flute lingered long and continuous, Baili An's hem fluttered slightly, a gentle breeze arose beneath his feet, slowly lifting his body.
His feet left the ground, and as if weightless, he floated backward towards the majestic hall doors.
