At this moment, on the land of the bluestone slab, scattered with remnants of Chinese wood-oil tree splinters, Mingjue knelt on one knee, blocking the entrance of the hall, refusing to shift even an inch.
Yet, the firmer his actions, the more his pallid complexion drew the eye. Set against his star- and moon-like eyes and the stunningly beautiful visage built of snow and ice, there was a surreal sense of exquisite fragility about him.
If He Qing hadn't been aware of her own strength just a moment ago, she might not have been able to resist reflecting thrice—could her power have increased so suddenly that she caused such painful consequences... Otherwise, with the force she had anticipated, Mingjue only needed to make a slight adjustment, and his Spiritual Power circulation should have quickly recovered. How could he still be struggling to stand on the ground after all this time?
