Recommendation Tickets, please.
On a towering ancient tree roughly a thousand meters from the foot of the mountain, its branches and leaves rustled and trembled, as if whispering of the upheaval soon to come.
Shen Tianjun's warm voice, with a hidden edge beneath it, sounded leisurely, as though drifting down from beyond the ninth heaven. "Xue Qi has made her move. It's time to draw in the net."
Lu Xueying's fine brows furrowed slightly, and a flash of resolve crossed her eyes as she said crisply, "My older sister and A Hong can definitely hold off that Peng Emperor. We should end this quickly, in case more trouble comes with delay."
Leng Qingqiu stood with his hands behind his back, dressed in white finer than snow, his aloof chill seeming even more solitary in the quiet night.
He gave a slight nod, his cold words falling like drops from an icy spring. "In that case, let's move. No more delays."
At that moment, all three of them wore masks over their faces, concealing their original features and leaving only pairs of eyes that glimmered faintly in the dark.
After that, the three of them put on black cloaks.
In an instant, their figures shot out like lightning, rising on their swords and turning into three streams of light that raced toward the battlefield at the foot of the mountain, where flames of war raged.
Sword light tore across the sky, leaving brilliant trails behind it like sharp blades ripping through the darkness.
When only two or three hundred meters remained between them and the battlefield, the three halted and came to a steady stop.
Leng Qingqiu, dressed in fluttering white, stood proudly at the front, ethereal as dust.
On his left and right were Lu Xueying and Shen Tianjun.