Chapter Content
The sharp sound of a flute pierced the air, wailing like a cuckoo crying blood. Yun Qing felt the flute’s sound was like a silver needle striking her eardrums, causing waves of sharp pain.
She caught the returning Hundred Years of Sorrow, her feet trembling as she launched herself from the ground, holding her sword as she thrust toward the person behind the tree’s shadow.
That person put away the iron flute and likewise drew her sword, while coldly saying, “Outsider.” It was a woman’s voice, quite solemn and dignified.
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