Feng Liang, with Bu Qing still securely cradled in his arms, flew through the air with unmatched grace.
The wind, which might have roared and howled around others, parted smoothly for him, bending to his will as if it, too, was loyal to his command.
The sky was clear, the clouds hanging far above them like soft, white guardians. Below them, the sprawling sect grounds stretched out in intricate patterns of courtyards, pavilions, and forests, but Feng Liang's focus remained unwavering.
Bu Qing, on the other hand, could only hold her breath. The sensation of soaring through the sky was something she had never experienced like this before... so effortless, so surreal.
It was almost as if they were weightless, gliding across the heavens. She felt the cool wind brush against her face, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth.
