As the wind moves, so does the person.
Pei Sulan flicked her fingertips gently, and the sound of the zither transformed into silk threads.
A subtle thought, and the transformed threads meander, their paths inscrutable, elusive.
The strength of a Fifth Grade First Snow Realm, truly, was naturally far ahead in her eyes.
Those who previously participated in the grand competition of Great Wei were at most at the Sixth Grade Fruit Realm at such an age.
The Shen Han before her was merely someone filling in a spot.
Surely, a substitute wouldn't be stronger than the one who was originally supposed to compete, right?
With a wave of her sleeve, pure light shone, breaking through the pitch-black night with the sound of the zither.
Nowadays, the young generation of Yan Country is no weaker than the young cultivators of Qi and Wei.
Pei Sulan, as an outstanding young talent of Yan Country, naturally had this confidence.
