The moonlight waned in the west, and in the Wangyue Pavilion, the evening breeze stirred the gauze curtains.
An ancient zither lay there, with tendrils of white smoke slowly rising from the burner. Ouyang Chenchen had long vanished without a trace.
Lady Nan Xiu's smile faded as she gazed intensely at Feng Bailing, her eyes fixed and her focus inward.
"Who are you, if not Feng Bailing?"
Lady Nan Xiu's voice suddenly changed, as a fiery red character flickered between her eyebrows—a stylized 'wood'—seeming ready to emerge.
Her tone was chilling to the bone, and as her delicate jade-like hands fell swiftly onto the zither, the sound resonated, followed abruptly by a flash of cold light.
A string from the ancient zither transformed into a streak of white light, racing like lightning and carrying a fierce killing intent, thrusting directly at Feng Bailing's brow.
At the critical moment, the string shifted abruptly.
