There were no footsteps.
But the mist at the valley's entrance began to flow differently.
It grew viscous, carrying a faint, acrid stench.
Cao Yan slowly rose to his feet, his figure disappearing into the shadow of a rock.
The dense fog at the valley entrance was now churning violently. It was no longer a wispy white, but had taken on a disturbing, sickly cyan-gray hue.
The temperature plummeted. A cloyingly sweet scent mixed with the stench of decay filled the air, as if some potent poison were quietly blooming.
A cyan silhouette silently condensed and materialized within the strange mist.
She made no sound, not even stirring the air. It was as if she had always been standing there, one with the mist.
She was a woman of enchanting figure, her form wrapped in a tight white dress that outlined a breathtaking silhouette.
Her face was exquisitely beautiful, so otherworldly it seemed unreal.
Her skin was pale, utterly devoid of color.
