Li Piaoqing turned back at him and repeated her thanks in a low voice, though not a hint of expression showed up on her face.
As she rode back to the martial arts hall in oppressive silence, those who greeted her on arrival could hardly recognize her.
Blood stained, icy cold, pale, rigid, morbid... she was like a walking corpse. Everyone who saw her felt choked, none of them dared to start a conversation.
She didn't see anyone around her. Her world was engulfed in a night as black as ink, stained with the brilliant red blood of her master's uncle, and the broken light and shadow of the sword darting across this interwoven curtain of black and red, interspersed with hideous faces.
Until the carriage stopped in the west courtyard.
The morning light slipped into her eyes from behind the three-story building. She instinctively shielded them, then noticed the warm and golden light on the locust trees, realizing that the carriage had already stopped.
