Meng Hao's expression remained calm on the surface, but deep within, his thoughts churned like storm-tossed seas. As he sat silently across from the woman in green robes, her faint, mysterious smile unnerved him more than a blade held to his throat.
She hadn't spoken yet, hadn't made a single threatening gesture—but her presence alone twisted the atmosphere in the carriage like a vice around his heart.
Who is she? he thought, eyes narrowed in subtle scrutiny. Why has she come here… and why me?
From the moment she had entered the carriage, he had sensed something was wrong. Her movements were too fluid, her gaze too calm. Someone to whom life and death were trivial games. Meng Hao tried to peer into her cultivation realm, but it was like staring into a vast, bottomless abyss. No fluctuations of spiritual energy, no outward pressure—just the unnerving stillness of power that needed no announcement.
Meng Hao's thoughts began to spin in panic beneath his controlled exterior.
