In the mountain valley of Mount Xianglu, the air was still trembling slightly, emitting a buzzing sound.
That faint luster was so tranquil, yet so incredibly oppressive.
The purple mist lingered softly, undulating around the Demon Queen, who was clad in a gossamer gown, as her delicate feet emerged from the folds of her dress, barely touching the ground.
Her slender legs were pressed tightly together, gently rubbing, and her lips seemed tantalizingly luscious, a picture of longing; however, all this was destined to be shrouded in the fog, completely unnoticed by anyone, let alone the ever-tremulous Wen Chanyi, who was walking on thin ice.
At this moment she was kneeling on the ground, her exquisite body outlining a heart-stopping curve, especially her peach-like buttocks, which were covered only by a layer of gauzy mist, appearing even more pitifully delicate.
