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Just thinking about all of this made Yin Zhi's head throb. Feng Ling… she truly is Mo Tian's nemesis, he thought grimly.
Meanwhile, inside the study, Feng Ling and Mo Tian were still locked in battle, neither caring that the door stood wide open.
Feng Ling rose into the air, her robes snapping wildly as violent winds coiled around her. Her once-golden eyes had turned pitch black, like bottomless pits that threatened to swallow all light. Books, scrolls, and ink brushes whirled around her, drawn into the storm of her magic.
A chair hurtled toward Mo Tian with unstoppable force. In response, a crimson wing burst open from his back, blazing with the same fierce red as his eyes.
