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The Phantom Moon Formation, amidst the wind and snow.
Ye Qinghong held her longsword against the adversary's throat.
Her expression remained as cold as ever.
Her lips were tightly pursed, gazing intently at the demon sect disciple before her, waiting for his answer.
There seemed to be... a hint of expectancy.
The demon sect disciple knelt humbly on the ground, his face full of reverence, seemingly very afraid of Ye Qinghong.
Hands buried in the ice and snow, spiritual energy rippled continuously.
Turning the ice and snow into a solid form.
Finally, it transformed into a blade, a blade made of solidified ice and snow.
He cautiously spoke.
"The Demon Lord is your husband. You are indeed your own Mistress."
"..."
Ye Qinghong's face remained expressionless, seemingly unmoved, yet her sword-holding hand had tightened considerably once again.
Her icy eyes began to ripple slightly, as if filled with joy, a joy that almost couldn't be hidden and seemed about to overflow.
