In the long corridor of the Dan Hai Hall, every move of Ying Yue's graceful figure had a charm that could steal one's soul. She walked on the ground as if she was walking on a soft futon without making any sound. However, at this moment, her face and temperament were no longer as indifferent as before in this familiar corridor.
The worry between her brows made the disciples of the Dan Hai Hall passing by couldn't help but look sideways.
A moment later, she stopped at the pavilion in front of the side hall and looked at the spiritual fog on both sides. She sat down and leaned against the railing, supporting her fair face with her hands.
