As he spoke, the memories of what happened before they entered the painting grew clear once more. Finally, the Monk cautiously brought up the "National Preceptor."
National Preceptor, Sun Chaser, Zhu, Night Lord.
A phantom who had wandered the mortal realm for a thousand years.
Undisguised killing intent flared in Feng Bei's eyes, but a moment later, it vanished completely. The corners of her lips curled up, and she cast a soft glance at Zheng Xiu before quickly looking away. Her emotions were a tangled mess. 'My feelings for the Night Lord are mostly hatred, but when I really think about it... if he hadn't set this trap, if I hadn't been pulled into the Cannibal Painting, I never would have been trapped with Zheng Xiu in that illusory past. And I certainly wouldn't have had those ten unforgettable years of a simple, warm married life.'
Those ten years were like a brand, seared deep into Feng Bei's heart.
