"XIAO JIE!"
Zhou Mei kept calling to the Blood Ant, but it remained static, not even stirring a muscle to her desperate cries.
---
Bai Clan,
Bai Yunxiao had just emerged from a state of profound meditation when his eyes darted in an unassuming direction.
In that corner hung a painting from Xiao Ming's youthful days—a portrait of him smiling with a tranquil gaze and mirror-like purity.
For many years, before Xiao Ming eventually matured and departed, the painting had remained untouched.
Today, however, a potent gust of wind swept down, threatening to dislodge it.
"Uh?" Bai Yunxiao was quick to notice, a frown immediately creasing his brow.
A streak of purple light shot from his fingertips, attempting to deflect the raging tempest. Yet, this wind was no ordinary breeze; it left a lingering ebb of black qi, seeking to engulf the painting in its wild flow.
