Not until that frost-clear voice rang out did she abruptly recover her senses.
The detachment in his tone made her heart tremble—it was just like when they had first met: he had stood at the edge of chaos, his gaze like ten thousand ages of Mysterious Ice, colder than ice, deeper than night, piercing straight into the soul.
A faint bitterness rose in her heart, and apology quietly touched her brows, lending her face a trace of fragility. Su Yang caught sight of it, and his expression softened slightly, but after no more than a breath, it returned to indifference.
Feng Yanran crouched down and gently covered the hand resting on his knee with hers. Her voice was soft as spring water. "In Husband's eyes, the Demon Race is no more than ants. Yanran does not understand—why can such insignificant creatures stir your emotions?"
Before her words fell, Su Yang had already cut her off. "The cycle of karma."
"The cycle of karma?" Feng Yanran was slightly startled.
"Indeed." His tone was calm, yet every word like a nail. "This was merely a warning for Nuwa. If she acts rashly again... next time, it will not be as simple as knocking the Demon Race into line."
After speaking, his figure vanished in a flash, leaving only a breeze sweeping through the spot where he had stood.
Feng Yanran sat alone by the cliffside, lost in thought for a long while. Intelligent as she was, how could she not know? That moment just now, she had quietly crossed the boundary Su Yang had tacitly permitted. His indulgence had made her forget that deep in his bones, he was still Sage Su Yang—the one who held the Heavenly Dao in his grasp and tolerated no transgression.
Suddenly, she felt some regret. She