Long Linger never imagined that in this deep, secluded palace, there would still be a living person, and moreover, a very delicate girl.
She stood there, dumbfounded, suddenly feeling as if she had crossed into ancient times.
Like a secluded attic, that fleeting silhouette exuded a deep loneliness—who exactly was she? Where did she come from? Why did Yeh Huang imprison her here?
The girl saw Long Linger through the mirror, put down the Crescent Comb in her Jade Bone hand, and slowly turned her head, her pitch-black eyes looking toward Long Linger.
This was a girl of about seventeen or eighteen, very thin, wearing only a red long dress, the kind made of silk fabric, her black long hair framing a pointed and pretty face, which was exceedingly pale, even her lip color was white; the only thing giving any Spiritual Energy to the entire face were those eyes. Those eyes were exceptionally deep, gazing for too long felt like staring into the depths of the ocean.
