Shen Tang only felt a gust of fierce wind surge up from behind; before she had time to turn around, several more dangerous attacks lunged at her from different directions! The next moment, she fell into a slightly cool embrace.
She had been fighting the assassins just now; suddenly taken into someone's arms, she instinctively wanted to struggle free, but froze the instant she caught the scent on that person.
It was an extremely cool, extremely faint fragrance, one that only at very close range could be vaguely distinguished as a trace of sandalwood and jade.
How should one describe this scent? It wasn't like the seductive, teasing floral fragrance on Shen Li, but more like the drifting mist of a winter night, or condensed cold dew—cold and light, distant and indifferent, making one's nerves tighten against one's will, as if being stared at by a venomous snake, unable to move.
