The Sacred Pond was eerily quiet, wrapped in an unbroken silence that felt almost divine. A thin layer of white mist drifted lazily across the crystal-clear water, hiding everything in a dreamlike haze.
Gentle ripples spread across the surface again and again, carrying a strange aura that seemed to have existed since the beginning of time.
In the very center of the pond, Su Qinglan was completely soaked from head to toe. Her snow-white robes clung tightly to her delicate figure, while her long ginger hair floated around her like strands of soft seaweed beneath the translucent water.
She looked breathtakingly beautiful in the ethereal light.
Yet her beautiful face had become frighteningly pale, devoid of all her usual lively color.
She leaned weakly against An Mo's broad chest, her breathing uneven, ragged, and shallow. Every breath felt painfully difficult, as if the dense divine energy around them was suffocating her fragile lungs.
