When the moonlight was torn into fragments by dark clouds and then gathered once more, Ye Fan’s fingertips rested right upon the seventh string of the Jiuxiao Huanpei. The frequency of the vibrating strings completely synchronized with the pulsation of the golden tree within his Inner World, and four distinct fragrances drifted across the body of the zither—the peony scent brewed from Su Qingxue's mechanisms, the snow plum scent clinging to Lin Zhaoyue's sword tassel, the golden silkworm fragrance spilling from Chǔ Hóngzhuāng's Gu pouch, and the cold iron scent stained upon Qín Wǎnshuāng's silver spearhead. At this moment, all of them had become the texture of his Inner World, drilling along his blood vessels into every bone and joint of his limbs.
"Zhaoyue's sword qi is unstable." His Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze swept across the thirty sword shadows on the left. Lin Zhaoyue's Taichu Ice Armor shimmered with a greenish hue under the moonlight, yet the ice ridges that should have been solid as substance bore several fine cracks. He remembered when he carved the cloud patterns on her hilt the day before, the tips of her ears had turned red enough to drip blood as she murmured, "Once a sword cultivator stirs her heart, her sword qi is bound to fall into disorder." It turned out not to be a joke.
"Qingxue." He tilted his head and called out softly. Su Qingxue was crouching behind a Blue Stone Slab ten paces away, her delicate fingertips rapidly forming seals on the ground. …
Chapter 401