Aunt Yi's expression was solemn, and she started to hum an ancient melody. The tune was full of grievance and desolation, and for a moment, there was a glimpse of melancholy beauty on her scarred face. As she hummed that strange song, Aunt Yi started to dance.
The combination of that sad song, odd dance, and blood-colored mist around that skinny figure was so eerie that Qing Lingyan shuddered. If she did not hate Ling Chuxi so much that she wanted her dead, Qing Lingyan would have turned around and fled by now.
Aunt Yi's song became more shrill, like an injured beast howling in rage and despair.
The blood-colored mist around her started to bubble, then turned into a vortex. Within the vortex, a monster beast's furious roar was vaguely heard.
"Alright." Aunt Yi finally stopped, her face pale and her body trembling, either from exhaustion or excitement. Her eyes shone with a fervent madness.
