The bitter late-autumn wind whipped gravel against Shen Mingyue, slicing through her tattered sleeves and exposing the gruesome abrasions on her forearms. The wind caught the scabs, causing them to sting—a stinging reminder of the hardships she had endured on her journey. She curled up in a damp, moldy corner of a ruined temple. By the moonlight filtering through the window lattice, she stared fixedly at the golden patterns moving uncontrollably across her palms. They writhed like living things, sometimes coiling into eerie clumps, other times clawing their way toward her wrists. Each pulse of movement brought a piercing, soul-deep pain. She trembled, digging her nails into her palms until the taste of blood filled her mouth, yet the turbulence of that power would not subside. Ever since she lost control at the altar, this energy had become like a disease in her bones, flaring up at the slightest emotional disturbance. Just last night in a neighboring town, the mere flicker of unease she felt when the innkeeper stared at her too long had caused gold light to erupt from her palms, burning a charred hole through a wooden table. The sound of the inn’s patrons screaming still echoed in her ears. She bit her lip, her eyes rimmed with red, filled with helplessness and resentment, wondering when this life would ever come to an end.
"Is the young lady searching for a way to master her power?"
A raspy voice abruptly shattered the deathly silence, startling Shen Mingyue so that she j…
Chapter 126