The fire crackled, sporadic sparks illuminating the man's long and short shadows, as if a wandering ghost, mysterious and unfathomable.
Ran Qingchen dared not exhale even a single breath.
She never would have imagined that Zhao Wuxiu would appear here.
Though his appearance was unremarkable, void of any overwhelming aura, Ran Qingchen couldn't shake an indescribable feeling of suffocation.
Ran Qingchen prided herself as a Sword Cultivator of considerable skill, yet in this moment, she lacked even the courage to draw her blade.
How could one person be so powerful?
Ran Qingchen pondered in silent astonishment.
Zhao Wuxiu picked up a tree branch from the ground and tossed it into the fire, speaking mildly: "I have never crossed swords with your mother, but I know her cultivation might be no less than Yan Changqing's."
Ran Qingchen listened quietly, unsure of his intentions in seeking her out.
Was he planning to capture her?
