The scorching tip of the sword touched the snowflake, and the beautiful petal instantly melted, burned into nothingness by the clouds on the golden sword, as if it had never appeared.
Ning keyue's pupils shrank. She saw that the mournful snow in the sky had finally dispersed, and the mountain-like killing intent had disappeared.
Ling Baiyi was still standing there quietly. It was as if he had not made a move at all and had not thrown the snowflake.
The snow fell again, covering his clothes.
Ning keyue swallowed with difficulty. Her clothes were soaked in cold sweat, and her heart was still beating violently.
She knew that Ling Baiyi had held back. Otherwise, she would not have been so safe and sound even if she had not died from that move.
