Feng Xuan's reminder lightly struck his heart, instantly scattering the melancholy that had filled Xue Mingqing's mind.
The gloom of surviving a calamity and the bitterness of missing his master all faded away.
What replaced them—
was a long-suppressed tenderness and guilt buried deep within his heart.
Hearing those words, Xue Mingqing instinctively froze.
Within the vast, desolate Wind Demon Tower, countless chaotic thoughts surged and intertwined. Yet the first figure that uncontrollably appeared in his mind had nothing to do with Huo Yuhao or Wang Dong.
There was only that slender figure, silver-white hair falling over her shoulders, cool and ethereal beyond the dust of the world.
Ning Yurong.
The woman who had always been indifferent and distant, unmoved by all matters of the outside world, yet held a deep obsession with him alone and rushed toward him with all her heart.
Scene after scene flashed through his mind, clear and unforgettable, not diminished in the slightest.
He recalled that battle in the streets and alleys, when evil winds raged through the sky and murderous intent filled the air, while everyone fled in panic, seeking only to save themselves.
Only she, regardless of the danger of the battle, the gap in their cultivation, life or death, or anything else, broke through layers of killing intent and rushed toward him.
She had not retreated in the slightest, nor had she hesitated for a moment. Her eyes held only the resolve to live and die together with him, as though she were determined to weather every storm with him and descend into the underworld at his side.
Even though he had deliberately kept his distance, deliberately remained cold, deliberately severed every bond between them; even though he had avoided suspicion for years and feigned heartlessness; even though everyone believed they had