When Shangguan Yee opened her mouth to keep clamoring, there was a gust of cold wind. With a streak of silver light, Shangguan Yee felt something cold on her neck. It was a crape myrtle soft sword in the hand of Leng Shuang.

The atmosphere became intense. Shangguan Yee felt that every breath she took was as ice-cold as the one from hell. The surrounding seemed to be quiet too, without anyone passing by.

Qin Yunuan stared quietly at Shangguan Yee, whose body ...