Dusk fell, and the moon and stars began to rise.
CREAK—
The door, which had been shut for several hours, was pushed open with a soft sound.
"Master..."
The silver-haired girl, who had been meditating as still as a statue just a moment ago, immediately opened her eyes, her gaze landing on the white-robed Sword Immortal before her.
At that moment, bright moonlight streamed through a gap in the window, falling upon Pei Yuhang and bathing him in an aura of supreme sanctity, making him look like a handsome immortal stepping right out of a painted scroll.
Moreover, a strange fragrance emanated from this immortal figure, making Qing Yueqiu feel as if she were drunk; a crimson blush, like rosy clouds at sunset, spread across her cold, pale skin.
The willpower that had resisted the illusion techniques of the Divine Sword Pavilion was easily crushed in the presence of Pei Yuhang himself.
Qing Yueqiu stared dazedly at her master, frozen in place for a moment, unable to say a word.
