Before the gates of the Cold Palace Sword Mansion, a silver-haired young woman in white was teaching a petite, nimble girl how to practice with her sword.
The two graceful figures, one tall and one small, danced amidst the snowy mist, the ringing of their swords echoing the howl of the cold wind.
Perhaps because Pei Yuhang had channeled his Yang Fire the day before to disperse the endless dust and fog, the weather today was exceptionally clear. Sunlight struck the blades of their swords, creating a dazzling silver glint. This light, in turn, reflected off the countless specks of snow dust floating in the air, making them sparkle like stars in the night sky.
After finishing a set of sword forms, Qing Yueqiu flicked her hand, conjuring a cyclone that shot toward the sky. The vortex swept up the accumulated snow within a hundred-meter radius, clearing a wide, flat, snowless area.
