A quaint, ancient courtyard.
A slender, elegant hand lifted the teapot and poured more water into her cup.
The sound of the water was long and drawn-out, yet it carried not a hint of warmth.
Even the surrounding air seemed to emit a bone-chilling cold.
It was as if the temperature here had suddenly plummeted.
At this moment, Qing Dai stood to one side, her head bowed, not daring to speak.
Cold sweat broke out on her forehead.
"Are they dead?" Meng Qiewei asked calmly.
"Not yet, but they're close," Qing Dai replied.
"Leave the tea leaves. Send the Brocade Bag and those two to the Immortal Sect." Meng Qiewei raised her teacup, her frost-white wrist seeming to radiate an unthawable cold.
Then, her calm voice spoke again: "Inform the Immortal Sect that they are to give me an explanation.
"Also, next time they send someone to investigate, tell them to send someone intelligent.
"Not some self-righteous fool.
"And ask them this: do they even know who they were investigating?"
