The moment the sound of horse hooves shattered the curtain of rain, Ye Fan brought his palm down heavily on the doorframe. The candlelight in the council chamber wavered in the draft, casting shifting shadows across everyone's faces.
As he turned, the Jiuxiao Huanpei at his waist emitted a crisp chime. This was his only surviving natal spiritual artifact from his fall in his past life, and right now it trembled in resonance with the Yuanqi of his Inner World, transmitting every detail straight into his Sea of Consciousness: the sharp clatter of distant iron armor, the heavy snorts of warhorses, and even the reek of blood seeping from the seams of the Black Scale Cavalry's armor.
"Come closer." His voice was as steady as dark iron, his gaze sweeping in turn over the slightly trembling pearl hairpin in Su Qingxue's hair (strung with poisoned silver wire, each bead sealing the "Soul-Departure Fragrance" of Hanmei Pavilion), the Red Flame Gu crawling along Chǔ Hóngzhuāng's fingertips (the red swarm sliding up the silver-bell patterns of her wrist and into her sleeve, an "Armor-Burning Gu" she had refined with a hundred poisons this morning), and finally landing on the Primordial Sword at Lin Zhaoyue's waist—where the scabbard had brushed against his Jiuxiao Huanpei, leaving a faint sword mark behind.
Chapter 391