River wind laden with damp moisture brushed against Ye Fan's face as he lurked in the shadows of the cargo warehouse, his throat bobbing slightly. Lin Zhaoyue's figure atop the mast was silver-plated by the moonlight, and the faint, trembling hum of the sword box at her waist sounded remarkably like a response from Jiuxiao Huanpei—this was the first time he had noticed such a subtle resonance between two rare treasures.
"Did you notice Zhao Batian's movements, too?" A crisp, clear female voice wrapped in sword Qi cleaved open the night mist. Lin Zhaoyue lowered her gaze to look down, the corners of her eyes tinted with a hint of warmth by the moonlight, while the coral beads dangling from the ink-plum blossom in her hair swayed gently with her movement, truly resembling falling drops of blood.
Ye Fan stepped out from the shadows, his boot soles grinding a faint crunch against the Blue Stone Slab. He could feel the black serpent within his Inner World slithering along his meridians, tracing Lin Zhaoyue's Qi inch by inch into his Sea of Consciousness—devoid of hostility, and carrying even a trace of... anticipation? "I was just planning to investigate." His voice was pitched very low, as if afraid of shattering the moonlight upon the river surface.
Chapter 17