Xuanyin Sect.
In an airtight room, the oppressive atmosphere was like thick ink, surging and spreading wantonly.
Su Xinghe curled up in the corner, as if enveloped in the shadow of fear.
His hands uncontrollably trembled violently, like a frail and helpless withered leaf about to fall from a tree branch in late autumn.
With much difficulty, he shakily took out his phone.
As the screen lit up, the glaring light seemed particularly jarring in the deathly quiet darkness.
Like a sharp blade, it pierced through the darkness, revealing his panic and unwillingness with no place to hide.
His fingers, as if pulled by invisible threads, mechanically slid across the screen.
The moment he dialed Shangguan Hong's number, his breathing became rapid and heavy, his chest heaving violently, like a trapped beast on the verge of exhaustion.
The sudden ringing broke the silence, sharply and abruptly echoing in the terrifyingly quiet room.
