The raindrops hit the bluestone floor, splashing fine pieces of cold water. She clutched the corners of her soaked sleeves, and her voice sounded like it was being crushed by the wind: "Who are you?"
The dream suddenly surged - the wind in Zhuxian Terrace was wrapped in frost, Xie Linzhou's immortal robe was soaked in dark red blood stains, and the sword spikes trembled in the wind. "I'll teach you one last move." His movement of raising the sword was as gentle as brushing away snow from her hair, but when the tip of the sword pierced her heart, she heard him say in her ear: "Remember, don't trust people with strings."
Blood beads dripped down the blade and fell into the clouds. Where will the fog wrapped in the truth drift to?
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