Wen Chanyi's plan was meticulous. With a light tap of her finger, beams of light emerged between them, and the paper umbrella she was holding spread a misty aura.
She gazed silently into the distance, her eyes, already blurred with deep melancholy, now seemed even more sorrowful.
Her slender and straight legs, hidden under her costume, pressed tightly together. For some reason, she particularly wished the Demon Lord to tie her up and then play with her jade-like feet.
To relive the torture and humiliation of that night in the mountain village once more.
As she indulged in these thoughts,
Ding Ling Ling!
The crisp sound of bells rang out, echoing in her ears. Amidst the swirling mists, the sound did not disturb a single leaf on Mount Xianglu, nor any creature.
Yet, it was precisely this scene that made Wen Chanyi suddenly raise her head, her eyes filled with shock. She could hardly believe her ears and even thought she was hallucinating.
