It was clearly a tense moment of escape, yet the demi-saint Qin Duan lingered somewhere in the skies behind, his exact arrival unknown.
"Tap, thump..."
"Tap, thump..."
The steady, deliberate footsteps echoed, yet no one found solace—on the contrary, their hearts grew heavier!
The mirror shifted again, slowly panning along the rhythm of the approaching footsteps. It captured the path leading up the mountain, then lingered for a few breaths on empty scenes.
No one understood what Feng Zhongzui meant by this.
But everyone fell into a strange silence, unnerved, as they accompanied Feng Zhongzui, whose half-face was etched with horror, staring for a long while at the vibrant reds and greens of flowers and willows, the golden laurels and jade stones.
After the spiritual array explosion caused by Lord Shou earlier at the Sacred Mountain's midsection, the chaos should've been absolute. Yet, amidst the minutiae, there still existed such vivid colors.
