The muffled thuds and sharp shrieks echoing from behind the wooden door of the ancestral hall pierced Gu Qinghuan's ears like fine needles.
Veins bulged on the back of her hand gripping her sword. Ten years ago, in the raging fire of the General's Mansion, the death warriors controlled by the Soul Technique had made the very same inhuman whimpering.
"Don't rush, Gu Qinghuan," Pi Yanlin said, his voice suddenly as light as a willow catkin drifting past her ear.
Chapter 41