The sky was dim, and an ancient town bustled with prosperity.
Azure alleyways wound through the town, teeming with voices.
A graceful figure slowly walked in from outside the town.
She wore a robe of red, strikingly conspicuous amid the gray, hazy alleyways.
The woman's skin was snowy white and delicate, as though carved from mutton-fat jade.
Her beautiful hair was black and silky, falling all the way to her waist. Her waist was slender and supple, but her face was veiled by a thin layer of black gauze, revealing only a pair of autumn-water eyes.
The alley was noisy, with vendors hawking wares on both sides. An old man selling candied hawthorns cried at the top of his lungs; steam billowed from the wonton stall; children frolicked with pinwheels in hand; the blacksmith's shop rang with clanging metal; old men played chess outside the teahouse. People streamed back and forth in a bustling throng...
Han Yan surveyed this ordinary little town, suspicion quietly rising in her heart. The instant she had stepped into this place, she had sensed a faint, elusive trace of ghostly aura.
That ghostly aura had been hidden extremely well. If she had not been a ghost cultivator herself, she never would have noticed it.
Without betraying a hint of it, she glanced around. Everything appeared normal, yet it was precisely this "normalcy" that stirred a thread of unease in her heart.
Han Yan knit her brows slightly and murmured, "Ever since I sensed that aura, I have traveled here from the Demon Kingdom, crossing tens of thousands of miles. Yet that final thread of sensation vanished here."
A trace of doubt surfaced deep in her eyes. That aura seemed to be calling to her from somewhere beyond the veil of fate.
She had spent so