Before You Xian died, beneath the bright white moon, peach blossoms blazed in a remote valley on Jingya Mountain, where spiritual energy was thin.
Beneath a flowering tree, You Xian leaned against the trunk, fallen petals carpeting the ground beneath her. She could not stop coughing up blood. Her face was as pale as paper, yet her eyes remained as still as an ancient well.
Ye Mo saw You Xian's lips moving. He bent down, lifted her into his arms, and listened closely. He only caught half of it and guessed the rest. At last, he understood what she was saying:
