Night shrouded everything.
The moon cast shifting shadows.
A figure soared into the air from Lingge, shooting toward the Northern Three Prefectures on a Flying Sword like a bolt of lightning.
The hem of her skirt whipped in the fierce wind.
Gu Xiangzhu's expression was grim. In her mind, she had cursed him countless times.
"You little bastard!"
"What are you trying to prove?"
"Why didn't you crush the warm jade when you were in danger?"
"Bastard!"
That piece of warm jade was far from being as crude and simple as a Peace Jade.
After all, she had many matters to handle in Lingge and couldn't possibly stay in the Northern Three Prefectures forever.
If it only notified her after being crushed, the grass on Zhao Ci's grave would probably be several feet high by the time she arrived.
So, the warm jade was not just a simple communication tool.
It stored a wisp of her pure, essential Soul Mist, which allowed its signal to bypass most restrictive barriers.
