When the woman's figure appeared beyond the sheer cliff and gradually came into focus, Linghu Chong felt as though time had stopped.
Beyond the abyss, where the sea of clouds churned, she emerged from the swirling mist and walked toward him, one unhurried step after another.
Though there was nothing beneath her feet but the abyss, she walked as if on level ground. Her plain, elegant skirt brushed the drifting clouds as she proceeded calmly, without stirring so much as a ripple.
The mountain wind howled, stirring the green ribbon that bound her hair and brushing across her face. It was not stunningly beautiful, but it was as gentle and warm as jade.
She still looked to be around forty. The years had begun to leave their mark between her brows, yet they had only added to her clear, serene bearing.
As she drew closer, he could see her smooth, full forehead and relaxed brows. Her eyes were clear and gentle, without a trace of sharpness. Only a faint, compassionate expression remained, as though they could reflect all the turmoil in the world and then dissolve it with kindness.
In a daze, Linghu Chong saw her hazy figure overlap with someone from his memories.
There was no doubt!
Just as before, the woman who had come still had that familiar face and kind expression. Her features conveyed the calm and compassion that came with age, along with her natural gentleness and grace.
The only difference was that she was walking through the air, one step after another, her movements leisurely and elegant. It did not look like she was using lightness skills; rather, she seemed to be strolling through her own garden. There was no imposing aura around her, only a soft radiance like moonlight—and Linghu Chong was left gaping.