He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, but a trickle of blood still seeped between his fingers. The intense emotional swing had clearly aggravated his unhealed internal injuries.
"Cough, cough…"
Yuwen Mingjue coughed violently. With each cough, a piercing pain shot through his ribs.
He clenched his fists tightly, swallowed the bloody foam in his mouth, and his gaze toward the window grew increasingly venomous.
'This is all Yang Jing's fault!'
'If it weren't for him, how could I have ended up in this state?'
'This score won't be settled so easily!'
...
「At the same time.」
Mist swirled around the summit of Lingxi Peak. A mountain breeze, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees, swept past the white jade railings in front of Lingxi Hall.
Si Jiawen, dressed in a simple white robe, approached at a slow pace. Her figure was slender and graceful, and her expression held a certain calm composure.
