That night.
Zheng Xiu brought out a new trick.
Feng Bei was impressed.
The two fought intensely for a whole night.
「The third day.」
The night was cold.
A heavy snow was falling.
The withered trees at the foot of the mountain were covered in crystalline ice flowers.
The frigid wind howled, slicing past like sharp blades, crying like wailing ghosts.
The young man arrived as promised, soaring into the air on outstretched wings and bringing his saber down in a single strike.
Feng Bei was still sitting before the bonfire, bored and alone on the silent, lonely peak. It wasn't until Zheng Xiu's saber came slashing down that a long-absent smile appeared on her face.
She stood up, shaking off the accumulated snow, and swatted forward with a black-gloved hand.
The young man's progress was divinely fast, secretly alarming her.
At first, Feng Bei could still dodge with ease, but by the third day, she was forced to use her hands.
