The rain grew heavier and heavier. The PITTER-PATTER of the light rain, with the passage of time, turned into a CRASHING, torrential downpour. The sky was also dark. Though it was the pleasant morning hour, the sky stubbornly resembled deep night.
In this silent environment, Ye Zhuyin, the second-in-command of the Mythical Sound Pavilion, leisurely wandered the Sect with a yellow oiled-paper umbrella in hand.
Ye Zhuyin was tall and slender with a gentle face, dressed in a purple robe. As she walked, a mood of melancholy seemed to emanate from her.
Yaoqin is a Great Dream Seed. If the Sect falls, how can she compete with other Great Dream Seeds?
Ye Zhuyin's brow furrowed tightly as she sighed.
Worried to this degree, her white jade hand subconsciously gripped the umbrella handle tightly, causing slight cracks to appear in it.
Her strength was somewhat out of control!
