It was at sunrise that the storm eased in Lan Guan-Yin's memory. Ye WeiRu showed no signs of returning to his sect house, and slowly, Lan Guan-Yin made her way out of this peaceful scenery and towards the unknown.
Wherever she headed, MingYu didn't want to see it. Her path always tinted with a shade of crimson. The cries of fear and anguish all that they had to listen to.
MingYu wanted no part in it, and for once, he felt regret in his heart that he once wanted to peer into Lan Guan-Yin's mind. But he had no way out. Her mind was but a string of chaos that she brewed wherever her path took her. Villages burned and vanished under her fingertips. Innocent lives snuffed - without even a chance of survival. Pity was a thing Lan Guan-Yin knew of, but ignored.
