The mountain wind howled. A somber, murderous air hung between heaven and earth, born from the roiling sea of black thunderclouds.
Pei Yuhang stood atop his sword, his dark robes whipping in the fierce wind. His gaze was locked on the brilliant golden glow in the distance, his brow furrowed and his expression grim.
"Yueqiu, you have to wait for me!"
He couldn't help but picture Qing Yueqiu's face, elegant yet alluring. Memories of her, from the little girl who couldn't even read to the graceful and talented woman she was now, flashed before his eyes like a series of unfolding scrolls.
He remembered how clumsy she looked the first time she held a sword, her excited expression when she first performed Sword Formulas, and all the days and nights she spent cultivating tirelessly in the Cold Palace Sword Mansion.
He remembered the rainy night she first confessed to him…
He absolutely could not let such a beloved disciple perish in the Celestial Tribulation!
