What met Jade Frost's eyes was a graceful figure in a frost-colored gown, her features exquisitely beautiful, her skin like congealed cream, as though a celestial maiden had descended into the mortal world.
Yet what shocked her more than the woman's beauty was that she looked exactly like her. From her brows and eyes to the contours of her face, from her expression to her bearing, she was practically a reflection in a mirror.
"You-"
Jade Frost's eyes flew wide, but a surge of cold forcibly cut off the words on her lips.
The other "her" smiled faintly at her and, imitating her tone, asked softly, "What's wrong?"
As Jade Frost stared at the "thing" before her, her mind buzzed in confusion, and horror instantly spread through her entire body. Her voice trembled as she asked, "...Who are you?"
"Me?" The woman smiled faintly. "I'm Yushuang Chenhua."
As she spoke, she slowly rose and pointed at the ritual altar within the Grand Array. "Look, they're Jade Frost too. We're all just like you. We're all Jade Frost."
Jade Frost followed her gaze, and her pupils abruptly contracted.
The twelve Pure Yang disciples wore different clothes, yet their faces were identical. Every one of them bore "Jade Frost's" exquisite, jade-like features.
Twelve pairs of fathomless eyes turned toward her in unison.
An indescribable sense of wrongness instantly flooded her heart. Though she had cultivated for countless years and had long grown accustomed to life and death, she still went cold all over. This had nothing to do with cultivation or courage; it was pure, instinctive terror. It was as though she had encountered some forbidden thing that particularly relished feeding on her.
"You! All of you!"
Jade Frost wanted to strike immediately and blast these things before her—if they could even