In the streets of Chang'an, the rain fell in a drizzle.
Guan Qinghan pursed her lips, and eventually made her way to Fang Yang's side.
With an expressionless face, a look of cold indifference, those frosty eyes seemed to be layering ice upon ice, so white with frost.
At this moment, she seemed to have regained the pride of the Yanqi Sect's young Sect Master.
Not joyous in material things, not saddened by personal woes.
As if all the matters of the world could not stir her in the slightest, but only Guan Qinghan herself knew how restless her heart truly was.
Thump! Thump!
Her heart was beating incessantly.
Almost as if it would leap out of her chest.
Guan Qinghan bit her lip, her knuckles white.
Why, why was it so? Why was she always so weak-willed!
She had made it clear that this was just an ordinary test.
She had become disillusioned with the devil, completely cutting off all thoughts; why then, in the end, was she still so nervous?
