"Saint Master, I have been staying at the Dao Sect in recent years because a great opportunity awaits me there... That is why I haven't returned to the Sacred Land."
Shang Miaoyan pressed her lips together, giving her answer with feigned composure.
WHOOSH—
A fragrant breeze swept past, lifting the countless red gauze curtains before her. The layers of red gauze billowed like waves of blood, vaguely revealing a graceful figure languidly reclining behind them, one pale, elegant foot pointed upward.
The crimson, fragrant wind blowing toward Shang Miaoyan then transformed in mid-air, creating one beautiful arm after another, which gently hooked a strand of black hair that had fallen over Shang Miaoyan's shoulder.
Just as Shang Miaoyan's heart leaped into her throat, the fingers teasing her hair dispersed in mid-air, as if melting back into the wind.
"So be it."
A languid sigh echoed from within the hall.
