Zhuo Jie's voice startled Gu Lin. She subconsciously raised her hand, a Gemstone held between her index and middle fingers, and looked ahead warily.
The sight stunned Gu Lin.
A hundred meters ahead, a woman sat in the shade, her back against a tree trunk, calmly watching them.
The woman's skin was as white as snow, and her long, jet-black hair shimmered like Obsidian. It cascaded from her ivory forehead, obscuring half her face. Her lips were as luscious and red as fresh blood.
Even more startling, she was wearing a form-fitting, black evening gown that revealed a perfect figure. While not overtly provocative, it gave off a strange sense of perfect proportion—as if adding or taking away a single detail would spoil the whole effect.
The afternoon sun dappled her form, making her look like a beautiful, unearthly illusion.
Zhuo Jie and the other three exchanged glances, their wariness heightening in unison.
