Xiao Yi Leaves Her Seclusion

Bai Ling's corpse sagged limply into the golden-red pool of blood, the dark gold vertical pupils completely losing focus, unwillingness and terror from the moment before death still frozen on that twisted face. Lu Changsheng gulped for breath, the golden blood staining his knuckles evaporated by five-colored lightning into wisps of blue smoke. With a thought, the purple-gold divine light shrouding his body receded like the tide, revealing his scarred and battered frame.

Drilling pain came in waves from the caved-in part of his breastbone. Every breath felt as if shards of glass were scraping between his lung lobes. Dense cracks crisscrossed both arms, the webbing between thumb and forefinger completely split open, fresh blood dripping along his fingertips onto the pure-white profound ice floor, blooming into one bleakly beautiful blood flower after another.

"Brother!"

Lin Qingxuan's voice carried sharp anxiety. Ignoring the wound between her ribs, she staggered and ran over. Her face was pale as paper, the corner of her lips still stained with blood that had not dried, and the Qing Ling Sword had long since been returned to its sheath. At this moment, she seemed merely like a younger sister thrown into panic by the sight of her elder brother gravely wounded.

Murong Taxue moved even faster than her. Her ice-blue long dress brushed over the ground, and in one step she swept to Lu Changsheng's side, reaching out to support his right arm. What met her touch was warm and sticky—the blood that had soaked through his clothes.

Murong Taxue's eyes, always so cold and clear, instantly reddened at the rims. She did not cry, only bit down hard on her lower lip and took out a pill glowing with a jade-green halo from her storage ring.

"Open your mouth."

Her voice was very soft,