Frost mingled with the thin mist, and the twilight clouds surged like the sea, the leaping flames on the Yin Ghosts' bodies illuminating Tian Ye's enchantingly beautiful profile.
She wore a painting-like black dress, her delicate hand holding a sword horizontally in front of her, the blade flipping, a pair of smiling, watery eyes filled with interest as they looked through the cold light cast by the sword at Xu Yuan.
No conversation was needed,
nor any introduction,
for those unique, deep-golden eyes had already revealed the identity of the newcomer.
The Saintess of Jiatiange, Tian Ye.
But compared to the pure and untainted holiness of Tianyan, the temperament of the woman before him was less that of a saintess and more like that of a bewitching woman who had taken countless lives.
A hint of seriousness flashed in his eyes, and Xu Yuan, without thinking, placed his hand on the shoulder of Xia Qing beside him, responding with a chuckle,
