The setting sun was the color of blood, dyeing the clouds on the horizon a deep crimson.
A figure stumbled through the mountain forest, their steps unsteady. Every time their feet touched the ground, it seemed to take all the strength they had left.
This person was none other than Elder Yang Rui of the Qingxuan Sect.
Her face was ashen. A wound on her left shoulder was still seeping blood, and poison had invaded her meridians, making the circulation of her Inner Qi sluggish and difficult.
The saber wound on her side was so deep the bone was visible, and every step sent a heart-piercing pain through her body.
She could no longer remember how long she had been running.
Nine hours?
Ten hours?
Or perhaps even longer.
The cold, violent aura behind her clung to her like a maggot on a rotting bone, tailing her at a leisurely pace.
Her pursuer was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse in its paws.
