Her gaze sharpened, ice supplanting warmth in her dark eyes. For a moment, time itself seemed to hold its breath, and the air around her chilled, as though the walls recoiled from the very thought of such cruelty. She envisioned those innocent women and children—helpless souls whose life essence had been cruelly siphoned away—their features frozen in silent terror as their bodies betrayed them. A pulse of cold fury surged through her veins: no crime so monstrous would escape her judgment.
Despite the storm raging within, Gu Yangjin's expression remained composed, her majestic smile undisturbed. She turned to the visibly shaken Feng Wei and asked, her voice calm but commanding, "Tell me, Feng Wei—what do you know of these ghost cultivators?"
Feng Wei blinked, momentarily taken aback by the abrupt question, his composure teetering under her unwavering gaze.
