The window revealed the first light of dawn. A pale, fish-belly white glow emerged at the edge of the sky.
Yulan was clearly exhausted; she was fast asleep, clutching a quilt in a rather unladylike posture, even letting out a soft snore.
The drained Yu Xian, bare-chested, sat cross-legged on the floor. A faint spiritual light emanated from the top of his head. His Mana boiled incessantly, reacting with the surrounding air in a peculiar way—at a glance, it looked as though a faint white shroud of light enveloped him.
Chapter 21