The setting sun was like blood, spilling across the vast Snowy Plains and dyeing the snow-capped mountains on both banks of the Yuan River a golden red.
Lu Feng and Xi Youmeng's group rode aboard an ancient vessel, drifting steadily eastward along the Yuan River.
Given Xi Youmeng's aloofness, Lu Feng was more than happy to enjoy the peace. He sat alone by the railing at the bow, lazily facing the gusts of river wind as his blue-black robe fluttered in the breeze;
The sunset's lingering glow shone upon him, making his entire figure seem warm and unrestrained in a way that defied description.
From within the cabin, Xi Youmeng saw this through the window curtains and could not help losing herself for a moment, her gaze unconsciously settling upon Lu Feng.
Seeing him half-reclined against the railing, quietly gazing at the distant horizon, she had no idea what he was thinking. His figure appeared somewhat lonely, as though he had merged into this vast, desolate world, carrying an indescribable air of solitude.
Judging by Lu Feng's bearing alone, Xi Youmeng would have absolutely taken him for some scion of a prestigious clan—proud and unruly, possessing the lofty bearing of one who stood alone beneath heaven and earth.
It was impossible to imagine that he was a Heretical Cultivator who killed without blinking, struck with vicious cruelty, and enjoyed carving out people's hearts.
As she was lost in thought, a faint smell of blood was swept into the window curtains on the river wind.
Xi Youmeng's delicate brows furrowed slightly. Her sense of smell had always been keener than most, and she determined almost instantly that it was the scent of fresh blood, not the fishy odor of the river.
She rose and slowly walked out of the cabin.
Following