Zi Yiyi was all too familiar with this voice. Every time she heard it, she would think about when she could ever possess such a distinctive voice.
It was cold and regal, yet it carried an inexplicable allure, as if it could draw out the deepest desires hidden within one's heart.
This was precisely the voice of Hua Jing, the seat of power.
Hua Jing walked gracefully past the congregation, as if everything around her had lost its color, leaving her as the sole presence in the world.
The hem of her dark purple dress softly draped her perfectly exquisite form, while her silver hair flowed down her body in smooth lines, her face shrouded in mist. Her entire being exuded an aura of nobility above all mortals.
Zi Yiyi's knees trembled, almost unable to resist kneeling.
Yet she bowed her head slightly, biting her lips, steadfastly refusing to admit fault to this mentor she considered her role model.
"Madam Seat..."
Zi Yiyi bowed in salute.
