"Mmm..."
Suddenly, a cold forceful wind swept all around, the frost on the ground thickened, lifting the hem of her fiery red skirt, like ripples of maple fire on a lake's surface. Her hair disheveled in the wind, occasionally strands would obscure the eerie purple extreme intent at the center of her brow.
She seemed to be in extreme pain, unable to help but lift her palm to cover half her face.
The black jade at her waist jingled, Yin Baishuang raised her exceptionally cold brows, her eyes turned red swiftly: "Where is he now?"
As her words fell, scarlet liquid seeped through her fingers, dripping onto the embroidered red shoes in front of her.
The man's eyes filled with deeper pity: "It seems the Young Palace Master Yin still cannot let go, insisting on hearing the truth directly from that person's mouth to confirm it."
