©NovelBuddy
PREVIEW
... no longer singing, yet the leaves were dancing, unaware that once fallen from the tree, life is as small as the Yang rod of Ye Chen.
The cold mist that once brought pride now felt like mourning silk draped over tombstones.
The clouds that used to embrace the pagoda’s silver spires now hovered like sentinels of despair.
Mu Shiyue appeared within the inner sanctum with a flicker of pale blue light.
The air here was thick with spiritual condensation, and yet devoid ...
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE