Yu Haiheng felt a cold shiver run down his spine. That familiar voice seemed to have come from the depths of hell. He didn't even dare move and although he was sure he saw nothing, he felt overcome by an overwhelming pressure; for a moment he even forgot to breathe.
After a while, he turned around stiffly. His eyes suddenly widened in consternation.
Shen Ying was dressed only in a white inner tunic that was spotted with some wood shavings and dust. Her face was as black as the bottom of a pot and her eyes had narrowed themselves into slits. Although she was as thin as a stick, her body emanated a kind of menacing aura, like the cold draft from hell that was now worming itself into his heart meridians. A raging fire seemed to be burning behind her.
An eerie silence descended over the palace; everyone was frozen to the spot. Looking at this person who had suddenly emerged, they subconsciously held their breath, their hairs standing on end.
