Xue Chuxin and Xue Churan lightly pushed open the door and stepped inside with nimble steps, while Zhu Hanshu followed after them, leisurely letting the door drift shut behind him with a low, gentle sound.
Entering the central hall, a woman draped in a dazzling golden shawl instantly drew both their gazes.
Her face was holy, her features picturesque, her eyes filled with wisdom, her skin fairer than snow. Her bearing was elegant, her charm extraordinary.
All around them, antiques and works of art were arranged in perfect disorder, each carrying the deep fragrance of passing years, yet she seemed to stand at the center of it all, making the central hall shine even more brilliantly. One could not help being drawn to her, forgetting everything else around them.
Facing this peerless beauty who seemed even more youthful and radiant than they were, Xue Chuxin and the other girl could not help exchanging a glance, their hearts full of doubt. Who exactly is this stunning woman?
Just as suspicion crowded their minds, a rich, magnetic voice drifted over, breaking the stillness in the room. "Chuxin, Churan, you're here."
Following the voice, they saw a middle-aged man standing with his hands behind his back beside a lattice window six or seven meters off to the side, gazing at the bright moon outside before slowly turning around.
Chen Zixiu, the Moonlit Swordsman, stood tall and straight, his face firm yet gentle.
The red line between his brows recorded the hardships of resisting divine power.
His blue robe was patterned with silver, noble yet still dashing.
Xue Chuxin and Xue Churan hurriedly bowed in salute. Xue Churan spoke first, her voice carrying a trace of pleasant surprise. "Greetings, Uncle. Thanks to Elder Zhu's guidance, we were fortunate enough to come here."
"We were