“Where are we?”0

Zhao Changhe regained his senses only to find himself standing atop a strangely familiar mountain range. Beneath him flowed a mighty river, waters surging relentlessly eastward.0

He turned slightly, noticing close beside him a fairy-like figure clad in pristine white, quietly gazing down at the rushing waters below. Her robes fluttered softly, and her delicate features were bathed in ethereal grace. Her eyes, misty and introspective, heightened a beauty both familiar and unfamiliar.0

Familiar, because he had just seen her within the scenes from the stone wall. Indeed, mere moments ago, he had been teasing this very woman, whose eyes had been stubbornly shut in playful denial, feigning ignorance as he brushed against her intimately.0

Yet unfamiliar, for the woman he knew had been shrouded in corruption and turbulent malice, obscuring her true nature. He had only ever glimpsed this original version of her through visions. And in those visions, she had been remote, dreamlike, and untouchable.0

Now, for the first time, he stood close enough to see her true visage clearly. This was not the childlike face of Yangyang, but rather the visage of a Yangyang fully grown, breathtakingly elegant and astonishingly beautiful. This was a being whose beauty could dazzle souls.0

This was Piaomiao.0

But was this the Piaomiao he knew, pulled in alongside him by the Soul-Capturing Mirror, or was this the ancient Piaomiao herself, in her own time? If it were the latter, they would be complete strangers, and trouble was inevitable.0

As if sensing his stare, Piaomiao slowly lifted her gaze from the river and turned to him, her eyes flickering with a complicated, unreadable emotion. “This place… You should already be familiar with it.”0

Zhao Changhe exhaled softly in relief. The tone of her voice confirmed this was indeed the Piaomiao he knew, the one who had just desperately cried out, “Zhao Changhe, be careful!”0

Dispelling strange, awkward feelings,...0