The quiet wind brushed up her garments, bringing with it a chill that added a faint sense of bleak emptiness; the stark white bones stood out like a dot of red in the mountains.
She rose on her sword, and Han Zhi, cold as frost, congealed and supported beneath her feet, as a storm of cold winds rose up around her, reaching towards the sky.
As she pointed, the huge remnant tore through the air, sweeping over with a silver-white sword glow, the cold wind acting like a tempest across the terrain; the white bones surrounding Feng Ju were blown into disarray by the terrifyingly cold current, their bodies swiftly encased in ice.
Soon, countless ice crystals and cold vines, sharp as blades, grew upon those skeletal frames, shooting up from the ground and entangling towards Feng Ju from all directions.
Feng Ju had been exiled here for over two hundred years, never aware of the existence of the three scions of the human Heavenly Dao.
