As the remaining disciples slowly rose, their movements jerky and filled with fear, Lin Lee's gaze caught one figure among them… Hua Lan. Her expression was pale, like the others, but her eyes, usually bright and lively, held a strange, thoughtful intensity as she looked at him.
"Little Lan, do not make an enemy of this person! Immediately! Leave this place and do not look back!" A sharp, female voice, laced with urgency and powerful spiritual residue, sounded only inside Hua Lan's mind. This voice belonged to the ancient soul that inhabited her spirit sea, probably her golden finger.
Hua Lan's eyes widened imperceptibly, and she quickly averted her gaze, her heart pounding.
