A streak of white light, like an arrow, hammered toward the beast's skull with the force of lightning. The dazzling brilliance was like pure water, dispelling the surrounding darkness, causing the fur all over the creature’s body to ripple in reverse motion against the sudden rush of energy.

Her robes, the color of fresh snow.

Her longsword, dancing lightly.

In that eerie, profound darkness, the breathtaking scene flashed past, searing itself deeply into the bright pair of eyes watching from a distance. Moments later, a piercing shriek erupted—frantic and ghastly, a desperate roar seemingly dragged up from the netherworld, its sound shaking the very plains, echoing ceaselessly within this massive, cavernous enclosure.

The beast fell.

It lay still in the pool of its own blood... unmoving.

Bai Yijun stood tall, sword in hand, breathing lightly. Within the clear depths of her eyes, like undisturbed autumn water, rested a faint trace of exhaustion. The semi-divine, peak-forged sword she held, named “White Snow,” cast a gentle luminescence upon her features, tracing fine lines of tenderness across her cheek.

Ye Chen gazed at her. In that oppressive darkness where one could not see one's own hand, that midnight lily stood silently radiating her beauty, drawing the gaze of all nearby toward her exquisite grace, yet simultaneously causing them to overlook the pallor of her complexion.

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