Stone Village.
High in the blue sky, far above the reach of a common man's sight, two figures stood upon a shimmering pane of distorted air.
Shen Haoran, his midnight black robes snapping in the high-altitude winds, looked down with an expression of clinical, almost predatory interest.
Beside him, Qing'er maintained a constant, rhythmic flow of her qi to maintain the spatial platform they are standing on, her crimson eyes scanning the perimeter with the cold efficiency of a hunting hawk.
"This is it? The place where that tree decided to hide?" Haoran asked, his voice a low, melodic drawl that carried even through the whistling gale.
Qing'er took a half-step and stood a bit behind him, her hands tucked into her sleeves, though her fingers remained poised to tear the fabric of space at a moment's notice.
After all, who knows if that Heavenly Saint level Willow Tree would go mad sensing them above and directly attack?
