The night sky in Tushan was torn open with a streak of silver.
There was no evil warning, no ringing warning, the white figure stood so abruptly on the branches of the bitterness tree. The moonlight fell on him, like being split by a knife blade
He has long hair that makes people speechless, as silver as a waterfall, but with a cold shimmer at the ends. When the wind blew, the red demonic lines on his cheeks remained motionless, as if even the wind did not dare to let loose.
The little fox demons below raised their heads and their legs were shaking. They had seen domineering demon kings and infatuated humans, but they had never seen such an existence - he stood there quietly, with no murderous intent or curiosity in his eyes, only an ant-like indifference to all things.
