Hearing the sound, Song Ciwan looked up. Through the dense layers of tree canopy, she saw the light and shadows shifting above.
In an instant, two figures, wrapped together in the same Red Silk, crossed paths. The Red Silk tightened. The figure in blue raised a hand and thrust it through the chest of the figure in red.
The red figure seemed about to counterattack, but the blue figure ripped her still-beating heart from her chest and held it aloft.
An eerie blue light spread over the still-beating red heart like spilled ink, staining it layer by layer. The red figure quickly lost the strength to fight back.
But she wasn't dead yet. Clutching the empty cavity in her chest, she stared in agony, resentment, and disbelief. "Lan Qin, why?"
Tears streamed down Lan Qin's face as she whispered, "I'm sorry, Hong Xiao. I know you've been good to me, but why couldn't you have been a little kinder to my sister?"
