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After the door closed, the anomalous energy and iciness clinging to his skin vanished into nothing. An invisible weight that Ye Qing hadn’t sensed before also lifted from his shoulders.
He didn’t relax though. While paying close attention to the strange fog that was only kept away by a thin piece of wood, he carefully scanned the room he was in.
The room’s decor was simple but elegant. There was also a faint, sweet scent in the air. At first glance, it looked like a woman’s boudoir.
There was another room partially located deeper inside the room. The entrance was partially covered by a curtain of beads, but he could vaguely tell that there was a bed and a dressing table.
When his eyes swept across the dressing table, a gasp nearly escaped his throat. There was a person. A woman. It looked like she was combing her hair. She wasn’t sitting in front of the dressing table, however. No, she was inside the bronze mirror. A reflection of someone who didn’t exist in reality.
Cold sweat broke out of Ye Qing’s back. He was immediately struck by the impulse to turn around and get out.
Of course, he didn’t do that. If he opened the door, then he would die...
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