Of course, there were no actual dark clouds rising over the high platform, but rather the dancer's garments, fluttering skirts and wide sleeves, and raven hair, spreading out in flight to take on that shape. Yet what was even more valuable was that the vast, oppressive intent of the dark clouds—piled high like a solid fortress—could be presented within the confines of the cramped pavilion. If not for having reached the pinnacle of mastery in the grasp of light and space, infinitely contracting the perceptual limits of the audience, how could she have achieved such an astonishing effect?
The cultivators, whose minds had been stirred just moments before by Chen Longchuan's injuries, were struck as if by a sudden shout, their spirits clearing for an instant only to quickly sink back down into those piled-up dark clouds. The lamps along the four walls flickered, alternating between dim and bright as though whipped by a gale wind, with storm and rain about to arrive. A wind truly arose within the pavilion—it was the gentle breeze stirred by the dancer's skirt hems and wide sleeves. Though slight to begin with, at this moment the woman dancing upon the high platform swept her wide sleeves apart on both sides, resembling a shifting view with every step, bearing a pure and transcendent phase that rushed against the face.
The dancing girl by no means begrudged displaying her enchanting countenance, yet Yu Ci could not help but doubt whether a single person truly saw clearly and remembered her beauty. The divine light sparkling within her eyes instead resembled electric fire leaping amidst the dark clouds, or perhaps a deity looking down with disdain from the edge of the heavens, and by no means should it have been the gaze of a dancing girl performing to