Amid the howling wind and snow in the mountain valley, time seemed to freeze for an instant.
Ji Yaoguang hadn't even seen how Wang Xian had taken the arrow, nocked it, and drawn the bowstring.
The youth standing alone beneath the ancient tree merely raised the seemingly ordinary wooden bow in his hand, his movements steady and utterly calm.
At a second glance, the bow and Wang Xian seemed to have become one, suffused with an ancient, weathered air.
Wang Xian's gaze was frighteningly calm.
It held neither the wild menace of a bloodthirsty killer nor the tragic resolve of someone making a last stand.
Instead, it was a kind of determination akin to the laws of heaven and earth. The moment his fingers touched the bowstring, the wind and snow across the entire mountain valley changed direction.
You're going to kill Yan Hui?
When the thought flashed through Ji Yaoguang's mind, even she found it absurd.
In her eyes, Wang Xian wasn't even as strong as she was. How could he kill a peak Void Refinement cultivator on the verge of a breakthrough with a single arrow from a thousand zhang away?
But the very next moment, she froze.
No astonishing spiritual energy erupted from Wang Xian's body. Instead, all his aura drew inward.
All his power gathered into that seemingly ordinary bamboo arrow.
The runes on the arrow's surface began to light up one by one—not with a dazzling glow, but with a dim, dark gold that seemed capable of swallowing light.
Wang Xian didn't seem to be drawing a bow and shooting an arrow so much as completing some ancient ritual.
For an instant, he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, not a trace of hesitation remained in his gaze.
Snow cascaded from the pine