Lu Qingyan's hands trembled at Zhao Fan's words, her heart pounding like war drums before battle both fierce and unrelenting.
Go there?
She swallowed the rising fear in her throat, forcing herself to still her breath and maintain her composure.
The tunnel was like the meaning of death and mystery, with no fathomable answer.
Fresh corpses of her brother lay there, and yet the Holy Envoy wished to press on.
Madness... or divine fate?
The sane instinct screamed for caution,
But despite her fear, she could not bring herself to stop him.
There was something about him, his scent, his bearing, the unmatched aura, the majestic presence, the unseen rhythm of his steps, that stirred a deep echo within her soul.
For nights now,
Unknown dreams had haunted her, visions too vivid to dismiss as mere illusions.
