Time flew by, and three years passed in silence.
The little girl who had once been only six, with soft, delicate features, had shed most of her childishness.
Now only nine years old, Qian Renxue had already grown tall and graceful. Her snow-white dress made her skin seem even fairer, and her brows carried a dignity far beyond her years.
Years of relentlessly harsh cultivation had worn away a child's innocent sweetness, surrounding her with the holy nobility unique to the Angel Clan bloodline and tempering within her a maturity and restraint that did not belong to her age.
Over these three years, it seemed little had changed. Mother and daughter remained like strangers, silent all year round. The wall of ice between them had not melted in the slightest.
Only her grandfather, Qian Daoliu, remained her sole beloved family and support. Yet he had also become increasingly strict with her, placing the future of the entire Angel Clan upon her young shoulders.
And through those three years of monotonous cultivation, through those lonely days with no one to confide in—
Lin Xun was her only exception.
On countless dusky evenings and moonlit nights, it was still this white jade corridor.
When she was tired, she came here to sit quietly. When she was lost, she came here to speak her heart. When she was happy, she secretly shared with him the smallest, most insignificant things.
Children only had so many things that could make them happy.
But in the vast, cold Spirit Hall, only this corridor and the person before her allowed her to cast off every shackle and simply be Qian Renxue.
Yet today, though the evening breeze in the corridor remained gentle, the atmosphere was especially heavy and stagnant.
Qian Renxue stood quietly at the edge of