The fog in Qingqiu has not dispersed for three thousand years.
The nine tails swept over the Yao grass on the edge of the cliff, and the silver fox fur was stained with dew like stars. When the nine long tails stretched in the clouds, the hibiscus flowers all over the mountain suddenly bloomed, but they could not hide those eyes - colder than the cold pool, more colorful than the flowing clouds, staring in the direction of the East China Sea. The wind carried a trace of unfamiliar human energy, with the smell of dust and bronze. She suddenly laughed, her fox ears trembling slightly: "Finally, someone dared to step in."
