Almost at the same time, in an extremely well-hidden purple bamboo forest on the heavenspan mountain that was not known to outsiders.
The spiritual energy was like fog, and the purple bamboo forest was a small green-roofed garden located in the depths of the purple bamboo forest.
At this moment, the sound of a zither rose. The zither sound was low and deep, like the sad cry of a Cuckoo, but also like a farewell of life and death, full of helplessness and sadness.
There was a stone pavilion beside the green-roofed garden, and a thin woman was sitting in the pavilion.
There was a zither on the stone table in front of her.
The lady's slender fingers gently plucked the zither, and an extremely deep and melodious sound was produced.
If one looked carefully, the woman's ten slender fingers had long been cut by the strings of the zither, and the strings were all stained red with blood.
