Even for his disciple Yan Feng, he had long forgotten the visage and demeanor of his master.
Facing the lapse and questioning from the Martial Ancestor, Song Lingxue's expression remained frightfully calm. She slowly lifted her eyelids, and in those deep eyes, it seemed as though ancient Star Rivers and endless ages were reflected, with no evasion, only an indifference that saw through everything and... a sense of natural rightness.
Her voice was not loud, but the words she uttered shattered all of Ji Zhouyin's hopes and doubts one by one:
"It was originally mine."
Ji Zhouyin's body slightly swayed, his face almost lost control, leaving only extreme shock.
His expression changed violently, his eyes filled with waves of shock and disbelief.
Inside the hall, a deathly silence fell, as if time and space had frozen.
