In an instant, Wuxia, the beauty of the Dragon Temple, perished tragically.
Pulling out the dagger, the wound on Wuxia's neck did not bleed, leaving only a faint red mark.
Lanling placed his hand on top of Wuxia's head, releasing a glow.
Suddenly, Wuxia's eyes blinked and opened again, but her gaze was wooden, her once stunning face completely pale—she had become a puppet, an empty shell.
"Take Zhuo Yu and Li Yizheng's bodies back," Lanling said.
"Yes," Wuxia replied.
Lanling continued, "By the way, tell your mentor Mo Jue to be ready; I will visit the Dragon Temple."
"Yes," Wuxia replied.
Then, she walked away, expressionless.
She bent down to pick up Zhuo Yu's head, then leaped from the nineteenth floor, picked up Li Yizheng's less intact head, then entered a Mercedes and drove north.
...
The next day, Puppet Wu Xia returned north and arrived at Li Yizheng's villa.
Her face was pale, emotionless, as she carried a bag and knocked on the door.
