The golden light erupting from the fissure made everyone's retinas sting. Ye Fan was sent half a step staggering by the shockwave, his left hand instinctively protecting Su Qingxue's waist. That willow-like, boneless waist trembled slightly in his palm, and he heard her low gasp mixed with an almost imperceptible chuckle: "Lord Ye is so protective, it's as if I were made of paper."
Before her words faded, the golden light suddenly collapsed into a human silhouette. Lin Zhaoyue's Taichu Sword hummed as it left its scabbard by three inches, the sword cry cutting through the mountain wind like a crane's call; Chǔ Hóngzhuāng's fingertip golden silkworm suddenly burst into a green mist, weaving a semi-transparent Gu Insect web around everyone; Qín Wǎnshuāng's handkerchief, which she had just picked up, was gripped tight again, the mysterious bird embroidery gleaming with dark patterns between her fingertips—the secret signal to activate her personal bodyguards.
Ye Fan stared at that figure, his Adam's apple moving. In his past life, he had seen too many visitors from other realms—those stowaways crushed by the laws of the Heavenly Dao, either rotting all over or driven insane. Yet when this figure landed, it was as steady as stepping into his own courtyard, the patterns on his battle armor flowing with starlight, not even crushing a single half-grain of gravel where he landed.
Chapter 281