As autumn neared, the forest was carpeted with thick, fallen leaves, the dusk light falling through the branches, casting deep, fragmented shadows of withering leaves.
Miao Luan remained composed, scrutinizing Chu Zheng, who was seated in the desolate woods not far away, feeling somewhat uneasy.
Compared to the last time's unruliness, this time, the young man in front of her appeared much more kempt, his hair neatly combed and adorned with a golden crown, wearing a flame-patterned vestment robe that added a touch of nobility.
Ever since Chu Zheng had contacted her through the Life Soul, she had been uncontrollably nervous, unsure of what Chu Zheng truly intended.
Since the incident at the Immortal Martial Battlefield, she had understood more clearly that the seemingly gentle young man before her was an absolute ruthless figure who was not to be provoked.
After a brief hesitation, Miao Luan bowed:
"Miao Luan greets the Taixuan Holy Son."
"No need for such formalities."
