Most of the moonlight was swallowed by dark clouds. On the bluestone path of the desolate village, dozens of stiff shadows were approaching in the same rhythm.
Gu Qinghuan's blade carved a silver arc in the darkness. As the edge swept past the neck of a little girl wearing twin buns, it stopped just three inches away—that left cheek, stained with a grain of rice, looked startlingly like the daughter of the cook she had seen in the General's Mansion when she was twelve years old.
"Careful!" Pi Yanlin's low shout, mixed with the wind, crashed into her ears.
Chapter 71