In the world of flowing oily colors, a girl's pleated skirt danced among the streams of colors,
her long legs in black silk stockings stepping on little leather shoes, her body flickering as if losing frames, with a twisted smile on her lips.
"Xia Feng...."
The girl's murmuring voice was eerie and chilling, her style bizarre.
Clearly, there was no trace of Spiritual Pressure emanating from the girl, yet it gave Xia Feng a sense of despair, as if being oppressed by a Holy Realm master to the point of immobility.
And when Xia Feng finally managed to restart his stagnant thoughts, the eerily smiling girl was already standing before him, her face so exquisite it seemed slightly fake, with pitch-black eyes that twisted into the shape of a colorful Holy Grail as they rotated within her sockets.
Simultaneously, the chaotic oily streams of light in this painted world seemed to find a center and crazily converged towards Xia Feng's head.
