Within the underground cavern, the deep friendship between the two began to take on a different flavor.
They sat close together. Lin Changheng vaguely sensed that Mo Zhaoli's body was rather stiff. Worried that she might not be sitting securely, he reached around her slender waist and let her lean against his shoulder.
Then, at last, an unmistakable romantic intimacy arose between them.
Mo Zhaoli's heartbeat suddenly quickened. Her translucent earlobes turned as pink as rose quartz, enchantingly lovely.
Yet she remained nestled obediently in Lin Changheng's arms, utterly still. The feeling of having someone steadfast to rely upon suddenly became tangible.
After all, however firm her Dao heart and however decisive she had been in killing throughout her journey, she was still a woman. The delicacy of her emotions could be hidden and suppressed, but never erased or extinguished.
"Brother Lin..."
Mo Zhaoli began recalling the past, speaking softly.
She spoke gently and unhurriedly of amusing incidents when they first met, the dangers of completing missions alone, and the occasional thoughts of each other during their separate secluded cultivation. Those memories buried deep within the past carried a different meaning now, weaving together the bond that had long since made them inseparable.
Lin Changheng listened quietly, his arm unconsciously tightening a little to hold her more securely. He could feel the beautiful woman's unreserved trust and attachment. The lake of his heart, which had witnessed a century of mortal life, seemed to receive a warm stone, sending ripples spreading across its surface.
Listening to her soft words, gazing at her flushed, lovely face tilted slightly upward so close to his own, and at those eyes reflecting the firelight, brighter than the stars, Lin Changheng felt an indescribable tenderness and impulse rise within him.
He lowered his head, his gaze