"Ye Ming is dead?"
Under the glazed lamplight, the tall woman's eyes grew shadowed at the corners.
The grand and towering statue of the Medicine Buddha sat cross-legged on a lotus throne. Beneath his coiled hair, there was no visible face. His entire figure, shrouded in a dim golden radiance, floated between light and shadow, while the halo of flames behind him remained enveloped in darkness.
Qin Qingluo sat on the meditation mat, her wide palm and slender fingers lightly brushing the tip of the spear.
On the dark purple shaft of the spear, a streak of thick thunderbolt was clearly missing.
"Ye Ming is truly dead?"
The red-robed woman nearby looked horrified, as though she had never envisioned such an outcome.
The former Prince of Annan had selected orphaned children from the Jianghu in secret, training them to be shadow assassins. Using the Divine Sect's teachings, he forged their unwavering loyalty. Among them, Ye Ming was the one in a million.
