The night was thick and dark, without a single star shining.
This world was enveloped in deep gloom, the swirling cold wind echoing the breath of that man.
As the sect leader of Yulong, in the moment when his murderous intent surfaced, the entire sacred land turned hostile toward that small courtyard.
The surrounding formation plates began to tremble slowly.
The great formation originally used to monitor the outsiders now concealed the auras of two figures just outside the courtyard.
Inside the quiet room, the candlelight flickered gently, casting a soft glow upon Ye Jing’s fair and delicate face.
In the bronze mirror, the expression on that face faded quickly.
Though still emotionless, the previous dazed look disappeared, replaced by a sharp, cold intensity.
She silently stared at the mirror, then in the next moment, her five fingers hovered over the table.
In an instant, the long sword on the table transformed into two streams of light, flying straight into her palm.
The scabbard split into six parts, swirling and flying around Shen Yi, forming a protective barrier.
“Don’t come out.”
Ye Jing seemed like a different person now, her voice calm and even.
Even without Meng Xiuwen here, she still possessed the strength to handle things on her own.