A gentle stream of water trickled down the mountain rocks, striking the smooth stone slab below and shattering into countless crystalline motes.
A cool breeze swept through the dense bamboo forest, and the disturbed stalks rustled softly.
In a stone pavilion beside the flowing water and bamboo grove, Shang Miaoyan, clad in a slim black gossamer dress, sipped Spirit Wine by herself.
Across from her sat a small porcelain cup, also filled to the brim, as if it had long been awaiting a tardy companion.
WHOOSH—
The faint ring of a sword echoed through the bamboo grove.
Pei Yuhang leaped off his Spirit Sword and cautiously approached the stone pavilion. He stopped short of the steps, hesitating to go up and sit across from Shang Miaoyan.
"Xiaohan, if I wanted to harm you, I'd only need to crook my finger, and your body would be mine to command."
