“Move out of the way!”
A tender yet sharp voice echoed, filled with urgency.
Huo Ling Long’s heart suddenly sank. An indescribable chill spread through her, like the icy river wind piercing through her being, making her shiver uncontrollably.
Pressure emanated from the person on the stretcher. This pressure enveloped her entire body in an instant, leaving her breathless for reasons she couldn’t comprehend.
Through the vast misty rain, on the ancient riverside paved with weathered bluestones, a faint red shadow of a palm suddenly emerged.
The palm shadow was gentle. To the ordinary eye, it seemed as though a serene Buddha was plucking a flower and smiling from the clouds. Yet, this smile, serene between heaven and earth, abruptly transformed into the grotesque grin of a Rakshasa. Malevolence and cruelty surged like an overwhelming tide, saturating the air with the Rakshasa’s sinister intent.
The one who struck that palm couldn’t help but smile. This was a strike impossible to evade, a strike that had never once missed its mark.
Yet, Huo Ling Long managed to dodge!
Her body, responding instinctively to the clear voice, softened and blurred within the faint red palm shadow.
The myriad Rakshasa eyes that filled the heavens failed to lock onto her form: her fleeting silhouette, akin to a startled swan glimpsed only briefly, had already appeared dozens of feet away.
The assailant couldn’t believe their own eyes: how was this even possible?
For a moment, amidst the sparse, misty rain, Huo Ling Long’s face seemed indistinct, almost blending into the surroundings. Only her snowy white buck teeth faintly gleamed in the dim light.
Her voice, however, pierced through the rain and reached them, carrying a sudden weight.
“Shang Qing Temple’s ‘Great Compassion Palm’?”
“You’re actually using the Great Compassion Palm?”
The “he” on the stretcher had already stood up. Hearing her words, his body visibly swayed. In an instant, his gaze turned piercing, like a sharp sword slicing through the endless rain, striking straight at her heart.
Though this man bore the same face as him, he was not him.
How could the one she was familiar with possess such eyes?
──These past few days, Huo Ling Long had encountered all sorts of eyes.
The eyes of the Sun Envoy were as lifeless as those of a corpse, utterly devoid of expression. The Moon Envoy’s eyes were charming, as if they could drip water. Chang Hongbi’s eyes had once been guarded and weary, yet brimming with passion. Shao Jizu’s eyes eternally reflected a conflict of ice and fire.
Tang Tianhao’s eyes carried the innate pride of the Tang Clan. But the eyes of the person before her, though set in a face identical to Zhan Zhao’s, were excessively roguish and mischievous, almost unnaturally so. Beneath this facade of acute cunning, however, there seemed to be a faint trace of melancholy.
Yet, no one could ever possess the pair of eyes that belonged to Zhan Zhao.
“Eyes like stars in the dark night—absorbing light without piercing others. Even though they were deep enough to uncover the secrets within one’s heart, they always carried understanding and compassion.”
Could this be the reason why the “he” on the stretcher had kept his eyes tightly shut all this time?
Huo Ling Long already knew who the person standing opposite her was. Her heart suddenly pounded so hard she could barely breathe. Her voice, raspy and strained, managed to escape her lips:
“The Ever-Changing Black Demon Fox? You’re Zhi Hua?”
In the light drizzle, a pair of swallows flitted along the riverbank. Their black wings, dipping and rising, occasionally sliced through the hazy rain.
The cold wind caused Huo Ling Long’s yellow robe to ripple, mirroring the shimmering ripples of the river beneath.
The “he” opposite her turned his back and sighed softly.
“If someone hadn’t warned you in advance, how could you have evaded the move ‘Boundless Dharma’?”
By saying this, he had already acknowledged his identity.
When he turned back, he was no longer him.
Huo Ling Long’s entire body felt as cold as the wind in the rain. Her restless heart, like the rain mist, had been shredded and scattered by the flight of the swallows.
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